


Diasterism

by StanleyQuinn



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Nightmares, Recovery, Trauma, Unrequited Love, and generally just hopeless, luke has issues too though, poe dameron is a hopeless romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-28
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:24:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StanleyQuinn/pseuds/StanleyQuinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Poe lies to himself about a lot of things -- He's getting enough sleep.  His nightmares aren't that bad.  He'll get past flinching every time someone uses the Force if he just keeps trying to desensitize himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I suspect anything tagged with this main pairing (Poe/Luke) owes its existence entirely to ["To The Sky Without Wings"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5609887/chapters/12925093) by [Leupagus](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leupagus/pseuds/leupagus) because did I ship this without that? Ha! However, this is not meant to stand in that universe, but diverge off the end of the movie.

It’s surprisingly quiet in the hangar when Poe comes back from a two day mission that lasted a nearly a week.  Red Squadron is out on maneuvers, and Blue Squadron is slated for a day off.  Finn and Rey also aren't there to greet him, but that doesn't surprise him.  He's landed during their training time with Luke Skywalker, and the man doesn't allow anything short of an enemy attack to interrupt his lesson times.

 

Shortly after returning to D’Qar, Luke had tested Finn and determined Finn was not just Force-sensitive but actually had some small ability to use the Force. Finn was promptly moved out of pilot training and into Jedi training instead.  Poe still resents it a little, mainly because he doesn't get to spend nearly as much time with Finn anymore, not that he'd ever say anything. 

 

The general had once remarked to him that he should consider himself privileged to be allowed in to watch his friends’ training, especially since he was counted as a distraction in Luke's book.  Poe still isn't sure if he should take that as an insult or compliment, especially since the general had seemed so damn amused when she said it.

 

After he clears medical and makes his formal report to Admiral Ackbar, followed by a second report to the head of covert ops, Commander Tristan, he takes the time to hit the fresher and change out of his flight gear into a pair of soft slacks and a loose shirt.  He's off duty for two days, barring any emergencies, and he wants to spend some downtime with his friends as soon as they're done with their duties. 

 

He enters the space designated for Jedi training from the side door, which opens to an observation gallery above the padded main floor.  It's not high enough to be called a proper loft, only about six feet above the sparring space, but it has a viewing rail to lean against and connects down to the main room by flat, spindly stairs.

 

Commander Skywalker (who often insists Poe should, "call me Luke, I don't outrank you, Commander Dameron,") leans against the rail himself, looking faintly puzzled as he watches his two students below.  He’s foregone the usual heavy Jedi robes and wears something dark and sleek, which reminds Poe of old holovids of the Jedi Master from around the time of the fall of the Emperor.  He still hasn’t shaved, which Poe is fairly sure Luke’s refusing to do because the “bantha herder beard” drives his sister crazy.  Poe actually likes how it frames the older man’s face now that he’s trimmed it down to something respectable. 

 

Finn is holding his own fairly well against Rey, who is by far the stronger Jedi.  She fights with a double bladed lightstaff, bright green and alive in a way that matches her spirit. The staff fighting is also her strength, the way she survived on Jakku, and her skills serve her just as well as the Force does.

 

Finn just recently crafted his own lightsaber, sticking with the classic single blade design.  Poe had seen the crystals before Finn placed them inside the metal hilt, and they had been a murky bluish color, which surprisingly tinted the lightsaber a soft indigo. The darker color also suits him in some way Poe can't place a finger on.  

 

No matter how much he loves seeing them in their element, loves seeing his friends succeed, being here always puts Poe at war with his own fears.  After everything with Kylo Ren, his nightmares are reaching new levels of horrifying.  If he can just desensitize himself, he thinks, he’ll be all right.  He’ll stop dreaming about terror and the Force and his mind shredding to pieces in a bloody and dark place.

 

He’s lying to himself.  Six months gone from Jakku, and most nights he’s still spending more time awake than asleep.  He gets just enough sleep though that he can justify not seeking help from medical.

 

He joins Luke at the railing, leaning against it and folding his hands together as he watches.  "Commander."

 

Luke snorts, inelegant and rough.  It always amazes Poe how human their 'miraculous Jedi Master' is.  If he's honest with himself, something about Luke, the person and not the ideal, amuses him. He remembers Luke a little, from a few visits to his home when he was very young, from his occasional lectures when Poe was studying to be a pilot at the Institute, and from his parents' funerals. But he never seems charming or funny in those memories, like he sometimes does now. "If I say your title back, it sounds like I'm repeating you," Luke complains.  

 

"Maybe you should have signed the paperwork on any one of a dozen promotions they tried to give you over the years," Poe replies lazily.

 

"Maybe you should call me Luke like I asked," he shoots back. 

 

“You first, Commander,” Poe laughs. For all his complaints about formality, Luke always refers to him as Commander Dameron.

 

“Poe,” Luke says, and the surprisingly fond tone stops Poe’s laughter short. 

 

“Okay, then, Luke,” he replies, mouth feeling odd around the words.  The smile on the Jedi’s face is too bright.

 

The fight on the floor comes to a sudden halt, both Rey and Finn apparently alerted to his presence.  

 

"You're back!" Finn shouts up, swallowing the stairs between them in two long strides, then tugging Poe into an awkward hug, the railing that presses into his hips and lower abdomen just short of painful.  Poe ignores it in favor of burying his nose in Finn's neck for a moment.  "What happened to a two day mission?" Finn demands when he finally lets go, knocking Poe's shoulder gently with his fist.

 

"Aww, come on, buddy, I never even fell off radar," he replies, accepting Rey's gentler hug next.  She clings to him too, for longer than usual.  It's the first mission he's been on that hasn't gone perfectly to plan, so their worry doesn't surprise him too much.  The first time a friend is overdue can be stressful.

 

"Doesn't mean we don't worry," she reminds him.  Fortunately she doesn't punch him, as she packs a much harder wallop than Finn.  "And where the hell is my favorite droid?"

 

"Took a graze to the paint job, didn't stop bitching about it the whole way home," Poe tells her.  "Headed straight for the droid shop to get the paint replaced.  She's fine, no system damage," he adds when he sees the alarm on Rey's face.  "It wasn't so much a proper graze as it was that she got a smudge from the damage to the X-wing.  I'm fine!" he adds emphatically when he sees Finn's face start to mimic Rey's.  "Hey, don't they have drills to run or something?" he appeals to Luke for help, hating the sly smile on the Jedi's face.

 

"They do, but they run them so much better when they aren't worrying about reckless idiots," Luke replies, voice mild in spite of the insult.  His eyes aren't as amused as usual, concern crinkling the corners of his eyes a bit.

 

Poe makes a rude gesture in his direction, earning a giggle from Rey and banishing the worry from Luke's face.  Rey and Finn still have a bit of hero worship of the Jedi Master, but Poe lost any sense of that after being tortured by Kylo Ren.  If he thinks about Luke or his friends as Jedi for too long or too hard, he starts to feel like he can't get a deep breath.  He knows it's strange to be scared of them, even abstractly, especially since he's a little Force-sensitive himself, but logic isn't exactly prevailing in his mind as often as he'd like these days.  Better to think of Luke Skywalker, ace pilot from the Rebellion and someone amused by his flippancy, than to think of Luke Skywalker, Jedi Master.

 

"I'm fine," he tells them both seriously, nodding them back toward the floor.  "Sooner you finish, sooner we can go crash in my quarters with a new holovid," he urges them.  Rey grins, apparently convinced, leaning in and kissing his cheek playfully before she bounces back down the stairs.  Finn stares at him for a moment longer, so Poe reaches out, grabbing hold of his shirt and tugging Finn over to him.  He mimics Rey, planting a quick smacking kiss on Finn's cheek, then gently pushes the other man away.  Finn chuckles, retaliating by ruffling Poe's hair before he jumps down, nodding to Rey as they both reactivate their weapons.  Poe doesn’t quite control his flinch at the noise, but he also doesn’t think it’s noticeable.

 

"How long have you been back on base, Poe?" Luke asks quietly, sliding closer to Poe so he can keep his voice too low to disturb Finn and Rey.  

 

"A little over an hour," Poe replies, stomach swooping a little oddly at the close press of their arms together and Luke's voice in his ear.  He's not sure when that happened, but it's definitely new and it doesn’t feel like fear.  "Bastard bounty hunters hung out on the rim with their scanners for six days.  They knew we were somewhere in that nebula, but they couldn't risk going in."

 

"Lucky the Resistance has that alliance with the gaseous beings in that nebula, what do they call themselves?" Luke asks.

 

"Yeurchai," Poe repeats the word as closely as he can, but the human mouth isn't quite capable of stretching around the sounds the vaporous beings make when they speak.  "Lucky, but alliance is a strong word.  We're not allowed to set foot on their planet, so we spent six days in X-Wings on half rations."

 

"And yet you come here first, not the mess hall," Luke observes, voice almost too mild.  Poe blinks in surprise.  It's the sort of quip and teasing he gets from his pilots.  His horribly one-sided crush on Finn is the worst kept secret on base.  He's still nursing a bit of a broken heart from Rey's return and the relationship that just clicked beautifully into place between his friends, like something from a holovid.  The way Snap tells it, Finn dipped Rey back like the hero in some two credit romance holo the first time they kissed.  Poe thinks it must be exaggeration, because his friends are sweet and awkward, not the type prone to showy romantics, but it doesn’t change the overwhelming affection between them.

 

"I grabbed some food in my quarters when I changed," Poe tries to control his scowl, but Luke gives him a knowing look.

 

"And now you wait for them," Luke continues.  "You could have stayed in your quarters.  They would have come to you the moment I dismissed them."

 

Poe narrows his eyes, but decides discretion just might be the better part of valor after all and keeps his mouth shut.  Luke presses on, mercifully in a voice just above a whisper.  "Are you in love with one of my students?"

 

Poe looks away, and too late, he realizes his mistake.  He looks to Finn automatically when he turns away, watching the other man as he moves gracefully.  It'd be an obvious tell to anyone, let alone someone as perceptive as Luke kriffing Skywalker.  

 

"I'm sorry," Luke says, something terrifyingly regretful in the older man's tone.  "Unrequited affection is the worst."

 

"I don't like looking at it that way," Poe admits, not sure why he's confiding in a man whose power petrifies him when he thinks too hard about it.  "I like being in love, even if I know whoever it is will never love me in return. I’d never push or get in his way, and it will turn to familial love soon enough.  It's better than trying to wrestle feelings down. My life expectancy isn't long enough to live any other way."

 

"That seems strangely sensible and insane at the same time," Luke remarks, forehead crinkling oddly.  "It's pretty much the exact opposite of how the old Jedi thought, which puts it more in line with how I would prefer to live."

 

"I always thought the old Jedi were idiots with that whole emotionless thing," Poe replies, shrugging.  "But then again, how many Jedi went dark after some sort of loss or rejection?  Maybe the key isn't detachment or full immersion but in emotional health and support." That stabs at him a little, nagging at his inaction to deal with his own health and support, but Poe is a pro at repression.

 

"So you did pay attention to my lectures at the Institute," Luke teases him, and Poe laughs.  It pulls Rey's attention, and Finn gets in a lucky foot sweep, but fortunately Rey recovers quickly.  "You're a hazard," Luke mutters, elbowing Poe gently.  "Distracting me and my students."

 

Poe doesn't know how to answer that, so he reverses track on the conversation.  "I think I liked your history lectures best, more than any other guest lecturer," he admits.  "But that could have been because Professor Thirgalin was dryer than four day old toast."

 

"And here I was feeling flattered," Luke chuckles.

 

"Do Jedi masters need ego stroking?" Poe teases back automatically, a little horrified by his actions even as they happen.  "I certainly can aim for that, can't have you turning dark on us."  He can't believe he just made a joke of his nightmares like that.

 

"Enough," Luke groans, clapping his hand twice.  Finn and Rey's lightsabers instantly deactivate, the room going quiet.  "All right, enough for the day.  Even I'm feeling bad for keeping the Commander on his feet after the past few days."

 

Rey makes a little noise of delight, hooking her staff on her belt and bouncing up.  Finn follows, quieter, calmer. "Finn, stop by the mess," Rey says. "Get a bunch of that fruit and some juice. And the seeds, you know, the red ones?  He probably hasn't eaten any real food yet, have you?"

 

She's too damn smart, Poe decides, not bothering to hide his scowl now.  "Good idea," Finn agrees.  "I'll meet you in his quarters.  Hey, you should comm your friend from medical, Naxa?  Make sure Poe actually got checked out and see if there's any instructions we should know, since he won't listen to them."

 

"I don't know why I punish myself with such mouthy friends," Poe complains to Luke, who seems to be hiding a smirk under that bushy beard of his.  He has no clue why he does it, but his mouth just seems to be acting without his say so today and out it comes.  "Do you want to join us?"

 

Luke blinks, looking absolutely stunned by the offer.  Rey and Finn seem oddly taken aback as well, but given that it's almost always just the three of them, unless they're joined by a number of Poe's pilots and their significant others, maybe their reaction shouldn't surprise Poe.  But Luke... there's something odd, Poe almost wants to call it fondness, in his expression.

 

"Thank you, but no," Luke says finally. The slump of his shoulders speaks volumes about his disappointment. "I have an appointment I shouldn't miss.  Perhaps another time?" 

 

"Of course," Poe says, voice sounding odd in his own ears.  Why the hell is he voluntarily trying to spend time with the Jedi Master?

 

Later, when he's eaten more than his share of the fruits and seeds Finn brought back from the mess, the room dark except for the flickering of the holovid image, Poe finally feels settled in his own skin again.  "Okay?" Finn asks softly, and Poe looks over at him, just watching silently for a long moment.  

 

Rey is asleep in her corner of the couch.  She's not big on touching or being touched, with the notable exception of Finn, but tonight her feet are stretched out unusually far, across Finn's lap so her toes press against Poe's thigh, as though even in her sleep, she's reassuring herself he made it back.  She always takes the lion's share of the couch, leaving Finn sitting very close to Poe on their allotted half.  

 

Finn has completely abandoned any pretense they normally have about personal space, slouching down so his head rests in the hollow inside Poe's shoulder while his arms are wrapped up in Rey’s legs.  Poe shifts, getting one of his arms around Finn and half hugging him in reassurance, letting his own head slide down to rest against Finn’s.  

 

"Yeah," Poe sighs, eyes sliding closed as he lets himself melt into Finn's warmth.  "I'm okay, buddy."

 

* * *

 

He's working on his X-wing repairs the next day (his definition of off duty and Admiral Akbar's tend to differ, but so far no one has been willing to kick him out) when Finn turns up, looking a little puzzled as he climbs up to join Poe on the back of the X-wing.  Poe stands so he can give the younger man a hand up.  "No lessons?" Poe asks.

 

"Luke told us to get out and come back in two days," Finn replies, picking up a tool. "Can I help?  I miss this," he admits, and one of the last tiny knots of resentment in Poe's chest over losing his time with Finn loosens.  

 

"You're always welcome on any ship of mine," Poe offers, putting on airs of overindulgent graciousness, just so he can watch Finn's mouth twist up happily as he chuckles.

 

"Rey's hoping to con some flying lessons out of one of your pilots when she comes down.  She still wants to beat you in an X-Wing someday," Finn tells Poe.  He considers the deck and who's working in the hangar.

 

"She should ask Jess," Poe decides, pointing to the short woman, who sees him gesturing and automatically makes a rude gesture back, scowling. She always assumes Poe's up to no good.

 

"Yeah," Finn agrees, laughing outright now.  "Jess is clearly in a giving mood."

 

"She's got a bad case of hero worship and fear when it comes to Rey and Luke, and I know she wants to get past it," Poe admits, shrugging.  It was something they had in common, he’d discovered recently.  "Some planets and people are like that when it comes the Jedi.  She comes from a planet that those planets consider extreme."

 

"She still seems okay with me," Finn points out. 

 

"She knows you," Poe explains.  In the four months between Finn waking up and Rey dragging Luke back, Finn had endeared himself to pretty much all of Poe's pilots, and any of the pilots of fighters that accommodated gunners would fight tooth and nail to have Finn in the cockpit with them.  He was a remarkable shot, probably with a little help from the Force as it turns out, Poe muses to himself.  "Anyway, if she's getting past the whole fear and awe thing, we'll start by foisting Rey off on her.  Luke is scary, but I'd bet she'll come back with a whole different sort of worship problem after she spends some time with Rey."

 

"Luke isn't scary," Finn objects, apparently having forgotten that as recently as a few weeks ago he had still been making Poe verify things the Jedi Master said in lessons, still wary of Luke after all the horrible tales the First Order fed its troops.  Poe bites his lower lip on a smile, handing a spanner over to Finn.  Finn looks thoughtful, considering Poe.  "Are you scared of Luke?"

 

"What?"  Poe drops a wrench, nearly nailing his foot.  "Why would you think that?" he asks.

 

"Something Rey said," Finn replies, settling down on a perch that lets him reach into the engine.  "She thinks you're scared of the Force.  I told her that didn’t seem likely since you're Force-sensitive, but she seems to think that doesn't rule out you being afraid of it.  But I thought, maybe you’re just afraid of Luke?"

 

Poe sits back down in his own space, a little stunned.  He knows it's a bad habit to underestimate Rey and Finn, particularly their perceptiveness, but he just keeps doing it.  "So you are scared of the Force," Finn notes softly, sounding sad.  "Are you scared Rey and I could turn to the Dark Side?"

 

"No, it's not... kriff!" Poe curses, sucking on the edge of his thumb where he’d just managed to scrape it with his tool.  "I know you wouldn't go dark.  I'm not scared of you, not really.  I just have some issues."

 

"Issues," Finn repeats skeptically, frown wrinkles marring his forehead.  

 

"Kylo Ren wasn't kind," Poe chokes out the words.  He doesn't want to admit it, but he doesn't want Finn believing it has anything to do with him either.  "Let's talk about something else.  I'm thinking about opening up the manifold and rebuilding the filter slats, you up for helping me?"

 

* * *

 

The next day, Poe finds himself summoned to Luke's office.  He had suspected the general gave Luke an office just so they’d have somewhere more neutral to argue instead of her office or Luke’s quarters, but apparently it’s actually getting used. He knocks at the door, gets a grunt of some sort in reply, and decides to take that as permission to enter.  Luke looks up, seeming surprised that someone is present, then waves Poe toward a chair.  Poe sits, as Luke goes back to looking over whatever it is he's working on, some sort of complex gadgetry on his desk.  

 

There's an odd jumble of ugly brown spherical rocks on the edge of Luke's desk, and Poe, impulsive as always, picks one up, passing it back and forth between his hands.  The surface feels rough and porous under his fingertips, and he suddenly become aware of Luke scowling over at him.  "Sorry," he says, setting the rock down.  "What did you need, Commander?"

 

Luke blinks, looking puzzled.  "I thought we agreed you’d call me Luke.  And I assumed you were here to see me about something."

 

"An ensign told me to report to your office," Poe says slowly, replaying the message in his mind.  

 

"Maybe they confused me with Leia?" Luke suggests, chortling a little.  "We are twins, after all."

 

"Yeah, I can scarcely tell you apart myself," Poe snarks back, standing.  "Never mind then."

 

"You should really drop in on my lessons tomorrow," Luke calls after him.  Poe pauses, frowning.  Luke usually rolls his eyes when Poe stops in, and he’s certainly never encouraged it.  Luke has returned to whatever he’s working on though, muttering a little as he does, so Poe doesn't bother asking.

 

"Okay," Poe mutters to himself, turning to leave the room.  Not for the first time, he wonders about just how sane the last Jedi Master really is.  He’s closing the door behind himself when he thinks he sees Luke pick up the rock he had just handled, probably to straighten it back to whatever exact spot Poe hadn’t placed it back in. 

 

* * *

 

He runs a short mission the next day, so it's two days later that he actually gets around to checking in on Finn and Rey in the Jedi training room. He hesitates before going in.  His nightmares had been particularly vicious the night before, and the echoes of them are still lingering in his mind.  He takes a deep breath, then pushes open the side door to the training room.

 

Finn and Rey are both sitting cross legged on the floor, some sort of stack of rocks between them precariously built and definitely not standing up naturally, gazes locked on it with intense focus, so he quietly takes a seat to Luke’s right, sliding his legs out under the metal railing like the Jedi has done.  "Quick in and quick out," Luke murmurs, sounding appreciative.  "I take it your mission was a success?"

 

"Did they tell you?" Poe asks, and Luke shakes his head.

 

"You always turn up," Luke replies.  "Unless you're off base."

 

"I don't always come watch their lessons," Poe objects, and Luke smiles.  

 

"No, but you turn up when they're ending, if nothing else."  He waves a hand, and Poe jumps a little as the tower of rocks goes flying.

 

Finn and Rey both scramble with hand motions to pull the rocks back in stopping some mid-air, but others hit the ground.  The tower reassembles slowly, while Luke shakes his head.

 

"Don't get too focused on only one thing," he calls out to them, shifting his right leg up so his knee bends up and his shin brushes against Poe's thigh, turning his body to look at Poe.  He’s foregone robes again; Poe’s noticed he’s doing that more and more.  This time it’s brown trousers and a soft tan shirt.  "I’m sorry if I startled you."

 

"No, you didn’t," Poe says automatically, voice a little too loud.  The tower wavers a little, but Finn and Rey focus, stilling the rocks.

 

"Focus on what matters," Luke reminds them, left hand coming up to rest gently on Poe's forearm.  "So Rey's right then, you're nervous around the Force?"

 

Poe scowls, tugging his arm away, then immediately hates how much that makes him feel like a petulant child.  "Okay, you two are done for the day," Luke calls down, but he wraps his fingers, lean, mechanical, and cool, around Poe's wrist.  Poe knows he can't break the grip, loose as it is about his wrist, because he knows the mechanicals in the artificial hand are capable of crushing his bones if Luke wants.  "You stay put," Luke orders him.

 

Finn and Rey, to their credit, both hesitate, looking to Poe curiously in spite the Jedi Master's dismissal.  "Go on," Luke says, tone brooking no refusal, when Poe can't find anything to say to them.  Finally, he simply nods his head at Rey, who grabs hold of Finn's hand and tugs, leading the former stormtrooper out of the training room.

 

"Poe," Luke says, sounding strangely hesitant.  "You wanna clue me in here?  I've known you your whole life, you've never been scared of me before."

 

"I'm not scared of you," Poe insists, teeth clenched.  "It's not... I'm... Why do you even care?"

 

That does something interesting to Luke's face. Poe watches his eyes dip low, shuttered, then his mouth pulls strangely flat before his eyes come back up to meet Poe’s, worry clearly reflected there.  “I care,” Luke’s voice sounds like crunching gravel, too rough.  “Why is a matter for another time.  What are you scared of?”

 

“It’s not you, or them,” Poe admits.  He turns his wrist in the metal hand, and Luke lets go quickly. Poe has to move quickly to catch it before Luke pulls it away.  Luke looks puzzled for a moment until Poe laces their fingers together, pointedly.  “Not scared of you.  It’s just… him.”

 

Luke’s whole body goes still, electric with understanding.  “Kylo Ren.”

 

“All my life, my Force-sensitivity’s been…” Poe hesitates.  He’s never tried to explain it to anyone.  “It’s just a soft bit of luck,” he decides.  “It nudges me left instead of right.  Like a little voice at the back of my mind that I could trust.  It was… not a safety net, more like I always had a tow line, I guess, to something helpful.”

 

“But it’s not like that now?” Luke seems fascinated by their interlaced fingers, metal warming where it rests against skin, silver and tan. 

 

“It’s like a raw nerve,” Poe admits, closing his eyes.  It’s easier to talk about it when he doesn’t have to look at Luke.  “And there’s something inside me, screaming still.  I’m terrified of being ripped open that way again.”

 

“I’d like to help,” Luke tells Poe, bringing his free hand up and cupping Poe’s face gently.  Startled, Poe’s eyes fly open, meeting Luke’s bright blue eyes.  They seem endless somehow, too full of concern, and all of it focused on him is a little more than he’s prepared to deal with.  But Luke’s hand keeps him caught fast, unable to break his gaze.

 

“How?”

 

“That’s the hard part,” Luke murmurs.  “I’d like to look into your memory, see what damage was done.  I don’t like what you describe, the feeling of something still screaming, Poe.  Will you let me see if it’s something I can help soothe?”

 

Poe’s knuckles turn white where they hold onto Luke’s fingers.  It’s probably lucky it’s the mechanical ones, or he’d be hurting Luke.  “Will it help?”

 

“I can’t promise you that,” Luke replies solemnly.  “But I swear it won’t hurt.”

 

“Okay,” Poe agrees.  The muscles in Luke’s hand contract, bringing finger tips flat against Poe’s face, purpose shifting in the way Luke holds Poe now, and the sensation Poe feels is something like a feather dancing over the length of his nose, fluttery and soft.  It’s quiet and soothing and nothing like the hot lines of fire Kylo Ren raked through his mind, determined to rip the knowledge out.  He shudders, just once, then Luke’s hand falls away and the world snaps back into place around Poe.

 

“I’m sorry,” Luke says quietly.  “Sometimes Force-sensitivity just reacts poorly to being abused.  He used your sensitivity to help make it more painful for you and easier for him to scratch out your secrets.  It will heal, with time, but there’s no other cure for it that I know of.”

 

“And the nightmares?” Poe blurts out, earning a frown from Luke.

 

“How often do you have nightmares?”

 

“Never used to,” Poe hedges, but sees a warning frown start to curl Luke’s lips downwards.  “Pretty much every night, to some degree,” he admits.

 

“Come on,” Luke says, using their joined hands to guide Poe to his feet before letting go.  “That I can certainly help with.”  Poe follows the Jedi, a little bemused at being hustled through the halls like an errant schoolboy.  The corridor branches, and Luke pauses, considering Poe with that odd fondness Poe can’t quite understand.  “It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on you if we go to my quarters, but I can gather work and bring it to yours if you’d prefer,” Luke says finally.

 

“If you can make me sleep without nightmares, I’d manage it in my X-Wing, on a rocky high-grav moon, just about anywhere,” Poe replies.  He almost recoils at his own eagerness, but Luke looks so kriffing understanding that he doesn’t have time to feel ashamed. 

 

“My quarters, then,” Luke concludes, turning quickly and leading the way up the hall.  When he keys open his door, Poe takes a moment to examine the room.  It may have started as standard guest quarters, but Luke has covered the shelves with datapads and books.  There’s a fire bowl on the dresser, which starts up when Luke waves his hand at it, and Poe feels a wave of nostalgia that overrides his flinch away from Luke’s power.  He hasn’t seen one of the large earthen basins filled with artificial flames since his mom was alive.  It fills the room with a warm, flickering glow that already makes Poe a little drowsy. 

 

Luke looks skeptically at the bed before floating a dozen texts off the blankets and gesturing to Poe.  The odd rushing feeling returns to Poe, but this time he recognizes it for what it is – the first stirrings of arousal.  He sits after Luke pulls the blankets back for him and quickly leans down, hoping his expression is hidden as he tugs off his shoes.  It’s an odd thing to consider – most everyone he’d known in school had had at least a little bit of a crush on Luke when he was a kid.  How could you not?  He was the handsome Jedi Master, heroic savior of the galaxy, and when you spoke to him, he focused in on you with those gorgeous blue eyes that made your knees feel weak.  But it was a passing fancy, like the crush you’d have on a holo-vid star. 

 

But this… Poe pretends to struggle with his shoe lace to give himself more time to think with his face hidden.  He likes Luke.  Funny, concerned, weird Luke.  He actually hates the Jedi thing now, it’s the charming man he wants to get to know better.  And then reality sinks in, and Poe quickly undoes his laces.  Poe may be good looking and charming, but he’s a mess.  And Luke is still powerful and charismatic and probably could have at least half the galaxy if he wants. 

 

Once he’s sure he has control of his countenance, he lets Luke help him slide under the blankets.  He considers the older man’s face for a moment, weathered but still handsome, and crashes headfirst into the realization that he’s in real danger of developing another hopeless crush, this time on Luke.  “So how’s this work?” he asks, desperate for anything else to fill his mind right now.

 

“I can give you undisturbed rest, dreamless sleep,” Luke explains.  “Jedi don’t usually use the practice just for rest.  It’s usually helpful to ease someone through a physical trauma so they can hold out until medical aide can be obtained.  I’ll send you under to sleep, help you get some rest needed for healing the Force trauma you’re dealing with. Nightmares by nature build up a sleep debt that is detrimental to healing.”

 

“Okay,” Poe yawns, then realizes whatever Luke is planning had already started while the Jedi spoke. “Tricked me,” he accuses the other man muzzily.

 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Luke reassures him.  Poe’s eyes can’t stay open any longer, so he lets them flutter closed.  Luke’s hand strokes the hair at his temple for a long moment, twilight opening in his mind, then Poe thinks he feels the feather soft brush of lips on his forehead, before the darkness envelops him.

 

* * *

 

Poe wakes to find Luke sitting on the bed beside him, wearing different clothes than when he sent Poe to sleep.  “Good evening,” Luke says, confirming Poe’s guess that he’s been out for a while.  He’s not quite ready to be fully awake, so he just makes an inquisitive noise, tugging the blanket back tight to his nose.  “You’ve been out for two full days,” Luke informs him, and Poe shoves the blanket away, trying to sit up and only making it halfway before a wave of dizziness knocks him back down, barely managing to prop himself up on his elbows.

 

“Easy,” Luke admonishes him.  “There’s a bottle of electrolyte balance and restorative on the side table.  Your blood sugar is going to be low.  I spoke with Leia when it became clear you’ve been in need of help for a lot longer than I originally estimated.  You’re off duty until I clear you.”

 

“I don’t think—“

 

“That’s clear,” Luke interrupts him, looking furious.  “You let this go on for far too long, Poe.  Why didn’t you ask me for help when I showed up two months ago?”

 

“I just thought it was trauma, and it’d just take time,” Poe objects.  He uncaps the electrolyte mixture, making a face before he manages to choke down about half of it.  It actually tastes fouler than it looks and smells. “That’s not something you can fix, Luke.”

 

“Turns out I can do something,” Luke points out.  He looks exhausted, Poe notices.

 

“Have you slept?” Poe asks, and Luke chortles.

 

“Asks the man who’s barely slept in six months,” Luke’s sarcasm shouldn’t be endearing, but it amuses Poe tremendously.  He finishes the electrolyte fluid, knocking it back like a shot.  “Don’t grin at me, I’m irritated with you,” Luke remarks, and the nonsensical statement just makes Poe grin harder.  “Stop it.”

 

“You’re cute when you’re cranky,” Poe informs Luke around a yawn.  He’s a little giddy, probably from recouping the rest his nightmares were stealing.  “Should I get out of your hair so you can sleep?”

 

Luke’s face has turned an interesting shade of red, and he shakes his head slowly.  “Luke?” Poe asks, confused.

 

“You are impossible.”  Luke’s anger has faded, and he just seems tired and rumpled now.  “I need sleep, Poe, and you’ve got about an hour before your body is going to want several hours more of natural rest.  Go use my fresher.  I’ll get us some food and then I’ll take the couch.”

 

“Or we can share,” Poe offers, smirking a little.  He has a bad tendency to flirt automatically when he’s attracted to someone.  He doesn’t think it’s working well for him with Luke.  Luke scowls, looking irritated again.

 

“Your amusement over my foolishness is annoying,” he informs Poe. 

 

Poe blinks, the sentence not making much sense.  He tries to parse it out, but his mind remains blank.  “I must be tired,” he says.  “What foolishness?”

 

“Fresher, food, bed,” Luke reminds him, and that Poe can make sense of. 

 

“Okay,” he agrees gamely.  He’s operating like a ship set to auto pilot, body achingly tired in spite of having slept.  When he steps out of the fresher, he finds Luke left him a set of bed clothes that fit surprisingly well.  The shirt smells like Luke, and he enjoys that a little more than he should, tired brain not bothering to check the fuzzy happiness it feels.  “How come I’m so sleepy?” Poe asks as he joins Luke in his kitchenette, finger combing out his wet curls.  Without a dryer it will likely frizz and curl in every direction, but he doesn’t care much. 

 

“What I did, it’s healing, but your body knows it isn’t true rest,” Luke explains, handing Poe a small bowl.  He lights up, seeing it’s full of red _srbljani_ seeds. 

 

“Better take some if you want any, I’ll eat them all,” Poe warns Luke, delighted.  “These are my favorite.”

 

“Rey mentioned that,” Luke confirms, surprising Poe.  He wouldn’t have thought the Jedi Master would remember that.  He plucks a few seeds out, then nudges Poe toward a chair so he sits down to eat.  Poe polishes off the seeds quickly, along with a gnark fruit and some fren noodles.  Luke eats some too, but he picks at it quietly, while Poe practically inhales it.

 

“Will I have nightmares when I sleep?” Poe asks curiously.  “Or is that part of my brain better?”

 

“All I did was help you erase the sleep debt,” Luke shakes his head.  “Tell me about the nightmares?”

 

Poe frowns, shrugging.  “Mostly it’s just being captured again, only this time Finn doesn’t come.  Sometimes instead of Kylo Ren, one of you shows up to try and…” he trails off, trying to think of softer words.  “Steal all my secrets,” he finishes finally.

 

“I’d ask if that included me, but from your reaction the other day, I know the answer,” Luke replies grimly.

 

“Luke, logically, I know,” he grabs Luke’s mechanical hand in his own when the other man doesn’t look at him.  “I know you’d never hurt me, not that way.”

 

“And I know nightmares and trauma don’t operate on logic,” Luke concedes.  “Still, I’d rather not feature in your nightmares.”

 

“No, definitely not how I’d want you in my dreams,” Poe agrees, flashing a wicked grin.  He gets a flush from the Jedi, but it’s paired with a frown, so he sighs, schooling his face back into a serious expression.  That gets a smile and a huff of disbelief from Luke, so he considers it a win. 

 

“The nightmares wake you?” Luke asks, and Poe shakes his head, then pauses.

 

“Well, eventually.  I’d prefer to wake and want out long before I actually shake myself awake,” he explains.  “I’m usually lucid before I’m actually awake.”

 

Luke looks so utterly sympathetic it hurts.  “I had bad nightmares, after the Emperor and… Darth Vader,” he says, but there’s a funny twist to his mouth around Vader’s name.  Maybe he still struggles with them, Poe thinks, then shudders at the thought of nightmares 30 years from now.  “But lucid dreaming was helpful for getting past it,” Luke suggests.  “Instead of trying to wake up, try to twist the dream.”

 

“I can try,” Poe agrees, feeling a dim bit of hope.  “You probably should send me back to my quarters, you know.  If I have a nightmare, I might wake you.”

 

“That’s all right,” Luke reassures him, scooping up the empty bowl from in front of Poe.  “Then I’ll be awake with you till you’re ready to go back to sleep.”

 

They have a bit of an argument over who is taking the bed and who is taking the couch, which ends with Poe stubbornly folding his arms and declaring, “Either you share the bed with me or I’m taking the couch.”

 

“Force save me,” Luke grumbles, climbing onto the bed.  Feeling victorious, Poe starts to turn toward the couch, but Luke shifts to the farthest side of the bed, leaving the blanket pulled back for Poe. 

 

“I knew you’d see reason,” Poe declares, sliding into the bed.  He tries to take a moment to appreciate feeling Luke’s body heat at his side, lying together, especially since it seems Luke is determined to ignore his flirting, but any enjoyment is quashed when he yawns widely.  He doesn’t flinch when Luke gestures and all the lights extinguish, except for the fire bowl somewhere near their feet.  “Thank you,” he murmurs into the dim light, grateful Luke can’t see his face. 

 

“Sleep, Poe,” Luke says, but his voice is soft.  Poe smiles as he drifts off.

 

He’s not sure how much sleep he gets before his unconscious brain once again turns over to Kylo Ren but it feels like a lot more than he’s used to. 

 

_The pain is red hot, agonizing, and it goes on for ages, until the memory of BB-8 slips free.  “I have what I need,” Kylo Ren says in that horrible, mechanically altered voice of his.  He leaves the room in a flourish of capes, followed by the Stormtrooper, which is when Poe’s brain clicks over, realizing it’s a dream.  The Trooper stayed, Poe recalls, because this is when he is supposed to be rescued by Finn._

 

_As if on cue, a second Stormtrooper arrives.  “Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?” he asks, because those are the words General Organa insists she asked Luke when he rescued her in an ill-fitting uniform when they first met.  He’s pretty sure that has to be embellishment on her part, but he does love the story.  Maybe he’ll ask Luke if it’s true when he wakes up._

 

_His dream responds to his attempts to shift it, and the helmet comes off to reveal Luke’s face, not young like it was when he rescued the general, but bearded and time worn, like Poe sees every day now.  “This is a rescue,” Luke repeats Finn’s words back to him.  “Can you fly a TIE fighter?”_

 

_Rather than answer, Poe uses his lucidity to banish the bindings holding him to the chair and stands.  He crosses the room in two long strides, takes Luke’s face in his hands, and kisses him soundly.  “For you, I’d fly anything,” he tries to sound suave, but it’s so hysterically funny even to his own mind that he wakes himself with the desire to laugh._

 

Sometime during the night he must have turned on his side toward Luke, because their eyes meet when Poe’s open.  Luke carefully telegraphs the movement, making sure it’s welcome, before he sets his hand against Poe’s cheek.  “Okay?” he whispers, and Poe nods. 

 

“You rescued me,” Poe whispers back, as Luke’s fingers drift to the loose hair at Poe’s temple, gently carding through it.  The touch soothes him back to sleep.

 

* * *

 

General Organa is not amused when Poe plops down in a chair across from her in her office the next day.  “I know I’m not one to talk when it comes to handling personal difficulties well,” she tells him through clenched teeth.  “And maybe if I were, I’d have seen how badly you were dealing with your own demons.”

 

“No one’s fault but my own,” Poe tries, and she scowls.

 

“I’m also the last one to claim any sort of mandate for dealing well with the Force,” she continues.  “I resisted being trained and passed up any opportunity to learn I could.  But I also can’t argue with Luke when he says I should ground you for a week, unless we have an emergency.”

 

“Come on, a week?” Poe complains automatically.

 

“Be glad you’re just grounded, and not off duty,” she informs him, sighing.  “I know you can’t, or won’t, talk to me.  And maybe talking to Luke has some complications with it?”

 

He flushes, feeling like sinking through the floor.  Kriff, it’s like everyone on the base can see right through him the minute he becomes aware of his own feelings. 

 

“Right,” the general says, coughing slightly.  “The less said on that, the better.  But talk to someone.  Maybe Finn or Rey or Jess?”

 

“Yeah, I’ll think about it,” Poe agrees hastily.  “So, that was a week from when Luke did the sleepy mind trick, right?”

 

“Out,” she orders him, narrowing her eyes.  “Or I’ll make it two weeks from today instead of just one.”

 

“Yes, sir,” he salutes before leaving, even if he’d rather give her a ruder two fingered salute the way Coruscantians do.

 

He works on his X-Wing for a while after breakfast, then heads for the training room.  Maybe if Luke can keep an eye on him, he can convince Luke to consider restoring his flight privileges early. 

 

His jaw just about drops when he enters the training room.  Finn sits on the steps, back pressed against the railing.  He looks over his shoulder and grins when he sees Poe, beckoning him over, and Poe dumbly obeys, unable to take his eyes off the floor below.

 

Luke swings his lightsaber up, fending off a parry from Rey’s staff, then arcs down just as quickly to block the second blade of the staff.  Poe knew Rey was quick, better than Finn, but he had no idea how fast, how good at this Luke still is. 

 

“Impressive, right?” Finn asks quietly.  He and Rey had given Poe a seriously impressive lecture at breakfast about trust and relying on them, and Poe had sworn to do his best to be more honest with them.  No time like the present, the imp on Poe’s shoulder suggests.

 

“And attractive,” Poe whispers.

 

“Hey, that’s my girl you’re talking about,” Finn objects, but there’s laughter in his voice.

 

“I meant Luke,” Poe replies lowly, enjoying the way Finn’s eyes go round as saucers.  A moment later they’re both laughing, enjoying the weight of a shared revelation, and the part of Poe that’s been waiting for weeks for his feelings for Finn to slide into something less painful finally tumbles into place.

 

“Poe,” Luke calls up, his eyes narrow and assessing.  “Here to disrupt my lessons?”

 

“I can be quiet,” Poe promises, making an exaggerated crisscross motion over his heart.

 

“All evidence to the contrary,” Luke replies dryly.  “My bag is by the wall.  Check the side pocket.”

 

Poe can feel his eyebrows lift, but he stands, crossing over to Luke’s bag and opening the side pouch.  Inside, he finds a lightsaber.  It’s either new or the pieces have been shined to perfection recently, and it’s a heavy weight in his hand.  He pulls it out, holding it up so Luke can see.  The Jedi nods, gesturing for Poe to bring it to him, so Poe hops over the rail easily. 

 

Rey moves toward him, and he starts to offer it to her, but she just huffs out a laugh, rolling her eyes. “Good luck,” she informs him, ducking under the rail and sitting down next to Finn.

 

He looks at the lightsaber in his hand, then back at Luke, who is waiting expectantly.  “Hey, whoa, no,” Poe protests.  “I’m no Jedi, I definitely don’t…”

 

“No, you’re not a Jedi, and you never will be,” Luke agrees all too easily.  “But you do have a sensitivity that was used against you.  It might help if it could be used for something else, help it relearn how it’s supposed work.  You said it gave you good instincts.  Give me something better for your instincts than a fight and we’ll do that instead.”

 

“Fight, sure, but lightsabers?” Poe grumbles, looking at the thing suspiciously.  “They don’t exactly work well for normals like me.  Whose is this, anyway?”

 

“Yours,” Luke replies easily.  “Crafted for you.”

 

An image crystallizes in Poe’s mind of the rocks in Luke’s office.  Not rocks after all, but geodes.  He’d unconsciously selected one and apparently had left enough of an imprint for Luke to work with.  “That’s why you called me to your office,” Poe means it to be a question, but Luke looks satisfied by the statement so he leaves it alone.  “You tricked me.”

 

“To be fair, your selection played a nasty trick on me too,” Luke replies dryly.  “Cracking that thing open to find near pure quartz.  It took far longer than I thought it would to fashion it.”

 

Curiosity has a good grip on Poe now, and he can’t not at least see the thing after hearing that.  He presses the trigger, extending the blade.  It’s not as long as he expects it to be, but the color is something utterly strange and wonderful.  Almost blue, almost green, and barely anything at all.  Almost white.  “Huh,” Poe says, then has to duck, blocking just quickly enough to cross blades with Luke an inch from his face.  “Hey,” he objects, and Luke withdraws.

 

“Any further objections?” Luke asks, and Poe scowls, but readies the blade.  He’s used lightsabers before, experienced the opposing pull of them that makes fighting with them so hard, but that’s missing from this blade.  Even so, he knows he’s about to get ground into the mats, so he sighs and decides to try and enjoy it a bit.

 

Luke swings much more slowly with Poe, and Poe can see the telegraphed movements, Luke going easy on him, treating him like a beginner.  He struggles to block at first, before finally something falls into place, and he feels his grip solidify and his movements smooth out.  Luke picks up the pace a little, and Poe struggles to match it. 

 

It’s his feet that end up getting in his way in the end, reaching too far for a block and then tumbling when he doesn’t regain his balance.  Luke immediately deactivates his lightsaber and offers him a hand up.  Poe accepts it, but between Luke pulling him up and his own push, he ends up closer to Luke than he’d planned, flushing and grinning wickedly for a moment. 

 

Luke sighs, nudging Poe away with their joined hands before letting go.  “Finn, maybe you can help Commander Dameron with his footwork,” Luke says dryly, giving Poe a long look.  Poe winks, enjoying the scowl he gets in return.  If Luke really objects to Poe’s attentions, he’s fairly certain Luke will put a stop to them.

 

Fortunately Finn’s much more patient and slow, actually teaching Poe some of the basics.  Rey and Luke go back to their training, the whirl and crash and speed of it amazing.  By the time Luke calls a stop for the day, Poe feels pleasantly exhausted. 

 

“Go ahead,” he tells Finn and Rey, lingering back for a moment.  Finn’s chuckle is all too knowing and from the mixture of annoyance and confusion of Rey’s face, Poe suspects she’ll have wrangled an explanation out of Finn before they reach their quarters. 

 

“Something else?” Luke asks, from where he’s retrieving his bag.  Poe hurries up the steps, ducking under the barrier and offering the lightsaber back to him.  “No, I was quite serious,” Luke replies.  “I made it for you.  You may not want to use it in a fight, but I think it could be good for you, help quiet your mind some.”

 

“Thank you, then,” Poe says, clipping the blade on his belt.  “So, is this a better time to ask why you care?”

 

“I don’t think there is a good time for this,” Luke groans, heading for the door, looking annoyed when Poe neatly steps into his path and blocks his way.  “Poe, just chalk it up to my sentiment for your parents if that’s easiest.”

 

“What if I was hoping for something more?”  Luke’s ears are turning red.

 

“Knock it off,” Luke scolds him, and Poe flashes his best winning grin.

 

“I was hoping,” he starts, then stops when he sees the pained look on Luke’s face.

 

Luke lifts his left hand, bringing his fingers up to trace over Poe’s jaw.  “Poe,” he mutters, and something clicks over in Poe’s mind.  The invite to join the training session.  Luke’s worries over Poe’s fears.  The soft fondness in the older man’s gaze.  Luke might not be as indifferent to him as Poe had feared.

 

“Oh,” Poe says softly, turning into the touch.  He brings his own hand up to the back of Luke’s, cupping it and pressing a soft kiss to his palm.  “You think I’m teasing.”

 

“Stop,” Luke protests, voice just a soft whine.

 

“I’m not teasing,” Poe informs him, but freezes where he is anyway.  “You don’t think I could be attracted to you?”

 

“You’re 32, I’m 53,” Luke says, as though that explains anything.

 

“And?” Poe asks when nothing further is forthcoming.  “You’re handsome.  You’re a Jedi, so your natural life span is probably 50 or 60 years longer than mine.  20 years is nothing.”

 

“You’re in love with Finn,” Luke says sternly, and Poe shrugs.

 

“I told you how I work,” Poe doesn’t disagree, even though that’s in its death throes in the face of his attraction to Luke.  “Yes, I fell for Finn, but he fell for Rey.  Then there’s you.  I like you.  You make me laugh.  And I’m attracted to you.  And maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I think you’re attracted to me.”

 

“Oh, Poe,” Luke groans, head falling forward.  It takes Poe a moment to realize the other man’s shoulders are shaking because he’s laughing.  He freezes, blood running cold.  Apparently he’s been really off base here.

 


	2. Chapter Two

Luke isn’t looking forward to stepping off the Millennium Falcon.  He can feel Leia, somehow radiating icy anger and desperate longing to see him at the same time.  There are a handful of other presences on the other side of the airlock door, but nothing calls out to him like his sister.  Interestingly, there are two other beings who are at least Force-sensitive, if not something more.  One feels much stronger in the Force than the other, but the fainter impression also feels familiar somehow.

 

“We’re down,” Rey confirms, and Chewie growls appreciatively.  Rey frowns at the still closed hatch, then gives Luke a comforting smile.  “You can’t hide in here forever, and I really want to go out there and see Finn now, if that’s okay, Master Luke.”

 

“You’re right, of course,” Luke agrees, taking a deep breath to steady himself.  He nods, and she presses the latch, allowing the hatch to roll away.  He’s dimly aware of Rey’s delighted shriek, but he only has eyes for his sister. 

 

Leia looks worn, hope battered out of her in a way even Luke delivering the news about her son slaughtering the children at his Academy hadn’t managed.  His arms are around her before he can even think about it, and she’s clinging to him just as tightly.  “I should have come sooner,” he whispers, hating the pain he can feel in her.  “Maybe I could have changed how things…”

 

“No,” Leia replies, voice quiet but certain.  “My son is dead, and he used the slaughter of his own father to kill the last of his goodness.  I made the mistake of thinking he was like Vader.  But he’s a different sort of monster, I see that now.”

 

“I’m still sorry,” Luke says, even though he knows apologies are useless.  The excited joy and chatter behind him reminds him that he has a student who is here, now, and it allows him to finally let go of Leia.  Chewie, glad to be able to interject, softly greets Leia, and she hugs him, smiling fondly. 

 

“We should get you both settled in,” Leia starts to say, as a soldier runs up, handing her a datapad.  “And I’m needed in command,” she sighs, looking a little helpless as she looks back up at Luke.  “Chewie, you’re in the same quarters.  Luke, I’ll find someone to show you to your quarters, and you should consider shaving that bantha herder’s beard,” she teases him gently, and Luke strokes his chin, not having to try very hard to feign offense.  She’s said worse to him over the years, but he likes his beard.

 

“Sir, I can show Commander Skywalker to his rooms,” a new voice interrupts, and Luke’s first impression is a wave a familiarity he can’t place, followed by a much more visceral reaction.  The younger man is good looking in a way that probably allows him to turn heads effortlessly.  His dark hair is thick and tumbled, just starting to turn grey at the temples, and his face is beautiful.  The bright orange jumpsuit marks him as a pilot, the command wings at the collar meaning he’s probably a pretty damn good one too.  “I’m feeling a little superfluous to the reunion anyway,” the pilot continues, hooking a thumb back over to where Rey and another young man who must be Finn are still embracing.  Luke shuts his senses down after half a moment of that, tempted to try and shake his head to rid himself of some of the saccharine warmth pouring off the pair. “Yeah.  I’d be willing to wager I can get Commander Skywalker settled and come back before they even notice I’m gone.”

 

“That certainly seems plausible,” Leia agrees, looking over at Luke, and then chuckling a little too knowingly.  Sadly, Leia is all too familiar with his type, and dry humor definitely adds to the pilot’s appeal.  “Commander Dameron, I believe you’ve met my brother before, correct?”

 

“Yes, sir,” the young man agrees, and Luke has to close his eyes against the quick wash of humiliation. 

 

“You’re Kes and Shara’s son,” Luke realizes, the familiarity suddenly snapping into place.  “It’s nice to see you again, Commander Dameron.”

 

“No, please, call me Poe,” Dameron insists, offering his hand to Luke.  “And it’s good to see you as well, Commander.”

 

“So I should call you Poe, but you’ll still call me Commander?” Luke asks, arching an eyebrow at the pilot even as he accepts the handshake.

 

“Good luck with that,” Leia remarks wryly.  “I’ve been telling him to call me Leia for ages.  And instead what I get is—“

 

“Apologies, General,” Poe says, dark eyes twinkling with mischief.  “But I believe you were needed in command?”

 

Leia swats at Poe, looking fond, and for a moment, Luke can envision how good of a mother Leia would have been to a son who hadn’t been overburdened with his grandfather’s darkness.  “We’ll talk later,” Leia promises Luke, giving him one last hug before she vanishes under the mantle of her command, stiff and straight laced once more as she leaves the hangar.

 

Poe falls into step with Luke, easily guiding him out of the hangar and down a hall.  Luke, all too aware of the pitfalls of sudden attraction after years of isolation, steers the conversation to safer ground immediately.  “The young man with Rey, that’s Finn?”

 

“Yeah,” Poe confirms, sounding fond. 

 

“Rey’s told me a lot about him,” Luke says slowly.  “Would you mind giving me your impressions?”

 

“Worried about his intentions toward Rey?” Poe asks teasingly, then shrugs when Luke doesn’t respond.  “He’s got great instincts, picks up new ideas and information quickly.  He’s assimilated to the Resistance much more quickly than anyone anticipated.  He’s stubborn.  I think he powered his way through his physical therapy after the partial spine replacement just to prove he could do it faster than the med droids said he could.  He wants to help fight, but I’m not sure he knows how he wants to do that yet, so he’s training with me and my pilots to learn to fly X-Wings for now.”

 

“And he’s lucky,” Luke surmises, surprised when this makes Poe hesitate a little.  “Very good at being in the right spot at the right time.”

 

“Yeah,” Poe agrees, looking thoughtful.  “Huh.  You think so?”

 

“I’ll have to test him to be sure,” Luke admits, shrugging. 

 

“Yeah, that’ll be a blast,” Poe grimaces, and Luke suddenly remembers Poe’s own Force testing not being all that pleasant.  One of the gruffer masters Luke had dragged from hiding had conducted Poe’s testing, and he’d been convinced the boy was shielding himself, not stretching his gift fully and tried to bully the five year old into demonstrating an ability.  Shara had given him an earful about it, and Luke had ended up re-checking Poe, confirming he was sensitive, but had no more than a glimmer of the Force about him, not enough to ever be actively useful to the boy or requiring training.

 

“I’m more careful about my testing than Master Frell,” Luke reminds Poe.  “And after your mother laid into me about what happened with you, Master Frell didn’t get to do testing any longer either.”

 

“Right hand,” Poe says, and the sudden non sequitur throws Luke.  It takes him a moment to realize Poe has stopped in front of a door.  He holds up his gloved hand, but Poe doesn’t seem to understand.  He tugs off the glove – he hates wearing it anyway – to reveal the mechanical hand.  “Huh,” Poe says, and to his surprise, the only reaction radiating off of Poe is a great deal of curiosity.  “Sorry, the mechanicals are impressive,” Poe admits, fascinated.  “That joint structure can exert well over 5000 Newtons of force, enough for crushing the hardest bones in the human body,” he observes.  “They don’t give them the extra strength or capabilities like that anymore. May I?”

 

Luke tries not to laugh, feeling oddly breathless as Poe examines his hand.  Most people shy away, or in one really memorable case, he had a lover who was actually quite repulsed by his cybernetics.  “Sorry, I’m better with robotics than people sometimes,” Poe flushes, suddenly aware of Luke’s gaze, but he’s still gentle as he releases Luke’s hand.  He steps back and taps a command override into the keypad at side of the door.  The right hand outline flashes twice then flips, becoming an outline for a left hand.  “Go ahead,” Poe says, offering Luke a hesitant smile.

 

Luke presses his hand to the panel, determinedly ignoring the flutter of arousal that smile causes.  “Thanks for your help, Commander,” Luke says, more dismissively than he intends.  It’s probably a good thing, putting some distance between them, he thinks, trying to calm himself.  He cannot do this, not with his friends’ son who is almost 20 years his junior. 

 

“See you around, Commander Skywalker,” Poe replies, matching his formality.  The pilot turns back toward the hangar, presumably to rejoin his friends.  Luke lets the door slide closed between them, then bangs his forehead against it to reinforce his resolve.  Poe Dameron is trouble.

 

* * *

 

It turns out Poe isn’t just trouble – he’s a walking, talking disaster just begging to happen.  He laughs at Luke’s jokes, even though Luke’s certain he’s not nearly clever or funny enough to make the other man laugh.  Worse, he makes Luke laugh, breaking apart the polite, distant barrier Luke tries to hold between them with ease.  He’s almost always around, turning up when Rey and Finn’s lessons are set to end, or sometimes even earlier, just to watch. And Force help him, Luke can’t seem to stop him or even turn him out the way he does with anyone else who tries pulling the same antics.  Leia catches Poe watching the lessons one afternoon, and her eyebrows speak volumes when she looks over at Luke.

 

“So Poe, huh?” she asks, when she catches up with him later that day.  “Oh, stop scowling, it’d be good for you if he did return the attention, Luke.  You’ve been on your own for too long, and even I can feel you foundering for a better sense of grounding.”

 

“He’s too young, and I am far too old,” Luke grumbles, holding a hand up to stop her from saying anything further.  “And barring all that, this is just my problem, nothing on his side.”  It’s fortunately true, Luke is fairly certain.  Poe remains unfailingly polite to Luke, but still only ever calls him Commander. 

 

Poe doesn’t turn up for the lessons one afternoon, but neither of his students seem surprised.  “He’s on a mission,” Rey supplies, when he asks if they’ve finally given the pilot the slip.

 

“Four days,” Finn adds, nodding to Luke.  “I’m surprised we didn’t see BB-8 come around, she’s been sulking since Poe had to leave her behind for this mission.”

 

“He does intelligence work, spycraft?” Luke asks, ruthlessly suppressing the chill that brings with it.  Any other type of mission and a pilot would take his droid with him.

 

“He’s apparently got a knack for things going incredibly wrong and still bringing home more than anyone can hope for,” Rey sounds like she’s quoting someone else.  “I think he thought that would sound comforting or something,” she adds, her mouth twisting in disagreement.

 

“He’s Force-sensitive, calls it his enhanced intuition,” Finn tells her.  “He probably was talking about that.”

 

“Really?” Rey sounds surprised.  “I thought he was afraid of the Force.”

 

That makes Luke frown.  “Poe’s been around people and beings in touch with the Force his whole life,” he reassures her, but Rey’s mouth stays pinched and unconvinced.

 

“He’s Force-sensitive,” Finn repeats, forehead wrinkling in confusion.

 

“Doesn’t mean he can’t also be afraid,” Rey says, but she lets it drop, ending the discussion.

 

Luke carefully tucks the new information away in a dark corner of his mind and resolves not to worry about Poe.  It’s not his place to worry.  BB-8 does turn up for practice one day while Poe is away, but after being used for levitation practice, she declines to return, beeping rudely at him and running off to find R2.

 

Despite Luke’s resolve, he still feels something unspool in his mind when Poe turns up on time, all grins and smug remarks about classified when Rey and Finn push for details.  “I’m sure Commander Skywalker would have heard if something went wrong,” Poe protests, rolling his eyes at his friend’s worry.  “And he’ll tell you what’s happening, I promise.”

 

He doesn’t give it much thought until a few weeks later, when Poe doesn’t turn up for a fourth day in a row.  He finds Finn and Rey sitting with their heads together in hushed whispers in the training room half an hour before they’re scheduled to begin practice.  The worry radiating out from them is cloyingly thick and nearly chokes him before he reinforces his mental shields.

 

“What’s happened?” he asks automatically.

 

“Poe was supposed to be back no later than yesterday,” Rey chews at the side of a nail so the words come out a little slurred.  “We tried asking the general, and she says he’s fine but…” she trails off and Luke nods, understanding.

 

“But you still want to know,” he concludes, and she and Finn look so damn hopeful it breaks his heart.  He’s not entirely sure why Poe Dameron inspires such steadfast loyalty from his students, but that he does only increases Luke’s attraction to the young man.  “I’ll see what I can find out,” he promises them, recalling Poe’s previous statement that he’d be able to find something out.  “After your lessons.”

 

The lessons aren’t quite an unmitigated disaster, but they aren’t far from it, Luke decides, before sending Rey and Finn away early.  He sits silently for a long moment, thinking hard about the two of them. 

 

He worries because he hasn’t tried to curtail their emotions at all.  He’s never believed in the virtues of emotionlessness, but occasionally, he has his doubts.  He knows they’re together, radiating a revolting amount of awkward puppy love at times.  And they worry, over Poe, over each other, sometimes even over him.  Finn has a lot of anger, but he keeps an iron control on it and channels it well into other activities.  Rey’s anger rarely bursts through whatever lid she keeps on it, and when it flares, it’s brief and easily banished.  It’s their control that has convinced him to keep the topic closed, even though he still wonders at times if that isn’t a lesson he shouldn’t have instilled in his earlier students. 

 

On his good days, he remembers that his other students died fighting and protecting each other, down to the last youngling.  On those days, he can believe as Leia does now, that there is something fundamentally dark and wrong in Ben’s psyche, and no restraint teachings could have solved it.

 

Today isn’t a good day.

 

Today he blames himself and questions every decision, including whether or not to head to command for answers.  Does he want to know just to calm their minds, or is this more about his own worry, roiling in the corners of his mind?  He concludes it definitely isn’t only Finn and Rey who need some peace of mind, and that’s disquieting in and of itself.

 

Leia gives him an all too knowing look when he appears in command, gesturing him toward her office.  “I told them he’s fine,” she informs him, and Luke manages a smile for her as she shuts her door.

 

“I’m hoping you can tell me something to quiet their worries and reestablish their focus,” Luke says, taking the seat she gestures him toward.

 

“And yours?” she asks, fiddling with a communications relay on her desk.

 

“I’m fine,” he lies.  “You say he’s out of danger, so that’s enough for me.”

 

“You’re a terrible liar,” she says, sounding far too amused.  “You know he authorized me to give you the unfiltered updates about him?  I guess he figures you know how to soften the news for your students if needed.”  She flips a switch on the relay, then presses a button.  “Black Leader, check in.”

 

“Command, this is Black Leader,” Poe’s voice comes over the radio, sounding surprisingly bored.  “Not much to update you on.  We’re still sitting here in the nebula, waiting out the bounty hunters.  Comms chatter we’ve picked up indicates they are hoping to collect the bounty on me from the Marineki Supremacy Alliance, but their rations won’t hold, nor their fuel.  It’ll be a few more days, but they’ll have to turn back.”  Luke feels his eyebrows lift, surprised.

 

“You’re on half rations yourself?” Leia asks.  Luke can tell she already knows the answer.

 

“Yes, sir,” Poe replies back, but now he sounds a little amused.  “I take it you’re not alone on your end since we’re rehashing details?”

 

“Your ducklings sent in the big guns,” Leia reports back, her lips curling up in delight.

 

“Hello, Commander.” Poe doesn’t use his name, even on a secure channel, which is smart, Luke decides.  “Please let them know I’m just fine, just waiting out a couple of stubborn SOBs.”

 

“How’d you get on the bad side of the MSA?” Luke asks, curious.  The MSA believes in wiping out non-nitrogen based life forms based on their archaic code of genetic superiority, which makes Poe tangling with them a little strange.  The Resistance has no use for the MSA, and vice versa.

 

“Classified, sir.”  Poe sounds far too amused by that. 

 

“He learned a secret about Madame Hutheri,” Leia informs Luke, naming the current head of the Alliance.  He notices she has removed her finger from the button so Poe isn’t hearing this.  “Turns out she’s not a nitrogen based lifeform herself.  She put a bounty on Poe’s head that rivals some of yours back in your heyday.”

 

That’s surprising to Luke, as he met Hutheri once, almost a decade ago, and had never suspected anything.  Her silvery white skin had been a perfect match to the people of the planet she claimed as her homeworld, and he then has to wonder exactly what sort of mist is in that tube she breathes from.  “I don’t want to know how he learned that,” Luke decides, and Leia cackles with delight. 

 

“Thank you, Black Leader,” she says into the comm relay.  “We’ll check back in again in ten standard hours.”

 

“Copy that,” Poe replies, and there’s a brief moment of hesitation.  “Commander, I appreciate you checking in.”  The words are a little stilted, like there’s more Poe wants to say, but Luke remembers how sending back affection or last wishes can seem like tempting fate or bad luck to a pilot. 

 

“No need for thanks,” Luke says back, hating the softness in his voice.  Leia flicks off the radio and gives him an indulgent, knowing look, before digging a bottle of Virellian Fire Rum out of her desk.

 

“Dameron is the best at what he does, he’ll be fine,” Leia reassures him.  “And when he comes back, you should try asking him to dinner.”

 

“Thank you, but it’s bad enough both of us know I’m a foolish old man,” Luke remarks acidly, even as he accepts the drink.  “I don’t need to know how he’d react to the revelation.”

 

“Poe isn’t the type to make fun,” Leia sounds a little offended on her pilot’s behalf.  “Luke, you could use some joy in your life.”

 

“I’ll work on that,” Luke grumbles, even as the weight of his failings crushes further in on him.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t notice the change at first, and he hates to admit that it isn’t the dissolving of his own tension that he notices.  Rey and Finn have both settled in to practice and sparring in a way that’s been missing for several days now, and he frowns, wondering what has prompted the change in their focus.

 

He doesn’t realize his own apprehension has wound its way out of him until Poe enters the room, joining him at the railing.  “Commander,” Poe greets him, like he hasn’t been gone for days. 

 

Luke snorts, amused by Poe’s flippant casualness, by the revelation that of course this is what calmed him down, and by the fact that after two months, Poe still won’t call him Luke.  "If I say your title back, it sounds like I'm repeating you," Luke complains.  

 

"Maybe you should have signed the paperwork on any one of a dozen promotions they tried to give you over the years," Poe evades the issue neatly, and Luke can feel his own contrary nature rise in response.

 

"Maybe you should call me Luke like I asked.” 

 

“You first, Commander.” Poe laughs as he emphasizes Luke’s title, and the sound makes the butterflies in Luke’s stomach erupt into action.

 

“Poe,” he says, carefully, deliberately, just to watch the mirth slide away from Poe’s face.

 

“Okay, then, Luke,” Poe replies after a moment’s pause, a slow smile lighting up his face, and Luke can’t help beaming back at him, enjoying the way his name sounds in Poe’s mouth.

 

The fight on the floor comes to a sudden halt, as both Rey and Finn realize Poe has joined him.  

 

"You're back!" Finn shouts up, darting up the stairs and roughly tugging Poe into a hug.  He barely manages to keep from laughing as Finn and Rey start pelting Poe with questions. Luke would almost feel bad for Poe if he wasn’t so amused by how his students have the pilot cornered. 

 

Poe turns suddenly from the conversation, shooting a too charming grin at Luke.  "Hey, don't they have drills to run or something?"

 

"They do, but they run them so much better when they aren't worrying about reckless idiots," Luke shoots him down, but it comes out soft and amused. Poe can probably read him like a book, Luke thinks ruefully.

 

Fortunately, Poe just makes a rude gesture in his direction, apparently oblivious to the concern Luke is feeling.

 

"I'm fine," Poe tells Finn and Rey, nodding them back toward the floor.  "Sooner you finish, sooner we can go crash in my quarters with a new holovid," he urges them.  Luke holds in a chuckle as Rey kisses Poe’s cheek impishly, then Poe embraces her silliness and does the same to Finn. 

 

When the lightsabers turn on again in crackling bursts of static, Luke notices Poe flinch, almost imperceptibly, and recalls Rey’s observation that something in this room scares Poe.  A lightsaber is an easy fix, if Poe will agree to learn to use one.  Given his sensitivity, Luke thinks he can probably even craft one suited to Poe.

 

"How long have you been back on base, Poe?" Luke asks, moving a little closer so he can keep his voice just above a whisper.  

 

"A little over an hour.  Bastard bounty hunters hung out on the rim with their scanners for six days.  They knew we were somewhere in that nebula, but they couldn't risk going in."

 

"Lucky the Resistance has that alliance with the gaseous beings in that nebula, what do they call themselves?" Luke asks, still not clear on how an alliance with the planet had meant half rations and long days cooped up in an X-Wing for Poe.

 

"Yeurchai. Lucky, but alliance is a strong word.  We're not allowed to set foot on their planet, so we spent six days in X-Wings on half rations."  That explains that. 

 

"And yet you come here first, not the mess hall."

 

"I grabbed some food in my quarters when I changed." Luke sighs inside, aware that he has stumbled onto something here, something that makes the normally sunny pilot scowl.

 

"And now you wait for them," Luke surmises slowly, just in case he’s on the wrong track.  Poe’s ears are turning red, so he suspects not.  "You could have stayed in your quarters.  They would have come to you the moment I dismissed them."

 

Poe remains silent, so Luke presses on.  "Are you in love with one of my students?"

 

Poe looks away quickly, gaze going straight to Finn.  Luke’s heart sinks a little, not just with his own disappointment, but in sympathy for Poe.  If anyone deserves something wonderful, it’s Poe.  

 

"I'm sorry," he says finally.  "Unrequited affection is the worst."  He winces at his own tone.  Voice of experience, party of one.

 

"I don't like looking at it that way," Poe says slowly.  Being in Poe’s confidence gives Luke a strange thrill, echoed by his surprise that Poe is letting him in this way.  "I like being in love, even if I know whomever it is will never love me in return.  I’d never push or get in his way, and it will turn to familial love soon enough.  It's better than trying to wrestle feelings down. My life expectancy isn't long enough to live any other way."

 

"That seems strangely sensible and insane at the same time," Luke decides, unable to parse what the philosophy does for his chances, and then wants to curse himself for even considering such a thing.  Instead he redirects the conversation to the old Jedi, pleasantly surprised when Poe tosses his own words into his face in reply.

 

"So you did pay attention to my lectures at the Institute," Luke teases him, and Poe laughs.  Luke thinks he could listen to Poe laugh all the time, and misses what draws Rey off balance and gives Finn a momentary upper hand in the match below. "You're a hazard," Luke mutters, elbowing Poe gently.  "Distracting me and my students."

 

Poe ignores that completely.  "I think I liked your history lectures best, more than any other guest lecturer.  But that could have been because Professor Thirgalin was dryer than four day old toast."

 

"And here I was feeling flattered," Luke chuckles, brushing it off even though he likes knowing Poe remembers him fondly.

 

"Do Jedi masters need ego stroking?" Poe asks.  Luke’s heart thuds, and he has to pause.  Is Poe flirting? "I certainly can aim for that, can't have you turning dark on us."  

 

"Enough," Luke groans, clapping his hand twice.  He’s not sure if he actually means to bring an end to the session or just needs to bring an end to his repartee with Poe.  "All right, enough for the day.  Even I'm feeling bad for keeping the Commander on his feet after the past few days."

 

Rey cheers, while Finn’s delight stays quieter and internalized. Luke tries to school his face, even as he appreciates the way his students are running right over Poe, quickly talking right over Poe, who opens his mouth to talk a couple of times but gets nowhere.  Luke’s barely followed the conversation when suddenly Poe turns to him hopefully.

 

"Do you want to join us?"

 

Luke struggles to swallow, his mouth going dry.  Poe has rumpled his wavy hair further, and Luke is struck by a desire to tangle his fingers in it.  "Thank you, but no," Luke manages to choke out.  He wants this, oh, he wants this, and it’s far too much to hope for and far more than he could ever hope to deserve after everything. "I have an appointment I shouldn't miss,” he lies.  “Perhaps another time?" 

 

"Of course," Poe says, and his voice sounds odd, but Luke can’t figure out if he’s disappointed or relieved.

                                                                                                                   

* * *

 

He almost feels bad when Poe leaves his office, looking a bit like he thinks Luke’s finally lost it, but he’s got his mind bent round the idea of crafting a lightsaber for the young man now, and he knows this compulsive feeling.  It’s a good idea, and it’s something the Force wants for Poe as well. 

 

He picks up the geode Poe had gravitated towards immediately, chuckling a little as he recalls it.  Leave something within Poe’s reach, and he tends to touch it.  It isn’t the first time Luke has noticed the pilot’s tactile nature, but it is probably one of the most pure thoughts he’s had about it since arriving on D’Qar. 

 

He studies the geode, checking that Poe had left a good imprint on it, and finds the imprint has seeped through into the crystals better than he could have hoped for.  It just confirms to him that he’s on the right track.

 

He reaches out with the Force, splitting the geode in half, then freezes, staring at the contents inside.  “Oh force kriffing bantha mewlers,” he snarls out the curses, sounding an awful lot like R2D2 when he’s in a snit.

 

Inside, the crystals are almost pure, just barely touched by the right impurities for use in a lightsaber.  Stubborn, and probably nearly impossible to shape to their intended purpose.

 

Luke sighs.  Sounds like a perfect match for Poe.

 

* * *

 

Poe doesn’t turn up the next day, which is fortunate, because even after wrestling with the lightsaber all night, Luke still has work to do.  Finn and Rey’s low level of worry confirms Poe’s left on a mission, but it doesn’t affect their focus overly much, so Luke surmises it must be a quick one.

 

Sure enough, Poe turns up the next afternoon, dropping easily to the ground beside him.  "Quick in and quick out," Luke observes, unable to keep the satisfaction at having Poe back without a hitch this time out of his voice.  "I take it your mission was a success?"

 

"Did they tell you?" Poe asks, nodding down at Finn and Rey, who are holding an unsteady tower of rocks together with the Force.  They’re doing well, but a little too focused on the rocks and not enough on anticipating him.

 

"You always turn up," Luke replies as he considers how to knock down the tower with a Force blast.  "Unless you're off base."

 

"I don't always come watch the lessons," Poe objects, and Luke smiles to himself.  

 

"No, but you turn up when they're ending, if nothing else."  He waves his hand, having found the right angle, and the tower jolts apart.  Poe also jolts, face going pinched and white, which makes Luke frown.  This isn’t just about the lightsabers.  Rey was right, Poe looks afraid.

 

"Don't get too focused on only one thing," he calls down to his students.  He carefully shifts his body, bringing himself closer to Poe, trying to read his reaction to Luke’s proximity.  Poe doesn’t seem alarmed, so Luke says softly, "I’m sorry if I startled you."

 

"No, you didn’t," Poe says, but his tone is forced and loud.  The tower of rocks wavers a little, but Finn and Rey focus, stilling the rocks.

 

"Focus on what matters," Luke calls down, wondering if he should call it a day on their lessons and take his own advice to focus on the problem before him.  He brings his left hand up, touching Poe's forearm in what he hopes is a reassuring way.  "So Rey's right then, you're nervous around the Force?"

 

Poe jerks away, mouth twisting terribly and skin actually growing a shade paler. That stiffens Luke’s resolve.  There’s a problem here, and he suspects he needs to deal with it.  

 

"Okay, you two are done for the day," Luke announces, then wraps his cybernetic fingers around Poe's wrist, preventing the young man from fleeing with his friends.  "You stay put," Luke instructs Poe.

 

Finn and Rey both hesitate to follow his orders, looking to Poe.  Oddly, it makes Luke proud that they won’t blindly follow him and instead look out for their friend.  He waits, but Poe doesn’t say anything.  "Go on," Luke says, using his best instructor voice.  Poe finally manages to nod at his friends, and they depart, Rey still having to tug Finn along a little.

 

Luke hesitates, not certain how to begin.  "Poe, you wanna clue me in here?  I've known you your whole life, you've never been scared of me before."

 

"I'm not scared of you," Poe declares through clenched teeth, eyes blazing as they swing up to meet Luke’s defiantly.  "It's not... I'm... Why do you even care?"

 

It’s a bit like a punch to the gut, but Luke suspects Poe doesn’t even know how deeply that cut scored him.  He tries to think of an answer, eyes unconsciously landing on Poe’s lips for a moment.  Horrified, he tears his gaze away, swallowing the confession.  “I care,” he manages to say, but his voice is too rough for Poe not to notice so he decides to retreat a little.  “Why is a matter for another time.  What are you scared of?”

 

“It’s not you, or them,” Poe says, but he’s suddenly trying to pull his wrist away, belying his words.  Luke lets go quickly, not wanting to panic the younger man.  He almost jumps in surprise when Poe reaches after his hand, slowly linking his fingers through Luke’s cybernetic ones.  Luke swallows hard, heart racing at the sight, human fingers tangled with his metal ones.  No one approaches his hand this way, embraces it with their own, delicate fingers.  He’s hard pressed to force his attention back to Poe, but he’s glad he does.  “Not scared of you.  It’s just… him.”

 

The words crash into Luke and leave him cold.  “Kylo Ren.”

 

“All my life, my Force-sensitivity’s been…” Poe pauses, head tilting as he thinks.  “It’s just a soft bit of luck.  It nudges me left instead of right.  Like a little voice at the back of my mind that I could trust.  It was… not a safety net, more like I always had a tow line, I guess, to something helpful.”

 

“But it’s not like that now?”

 

Luke listens carefully while Poe describes it, but can’t keep his eyes on Poe’s face.  He feels his guilt over Ben tearing at him.  He’s to blame for Poe’s pain.  He caused this, hurt this strange wonderful man who holds his mechanical hand without hesitation. Poe has squeezed his eyes shut, and it makes Luke reach out to touch his face, thumb catching under Poe’s chin to bring their gazes together.  Poe’s eyes fly open, startled, when Luke says, “I’d like to help.”

 

Poe stares at him, eyes not blinking for a long, breathless moment.  “How?”

 

“That’s the hard part,” Luke admits, taking a deep breath.  “I’d like to look into your memory, see what damage was done.  I don’t like what you describe, the feeling of something still screaming, Poe.  Will you let me see if it’s something I can help soothe?”

 

Poe’s grip on his mechanical hand tightens.  The nerve relays are mostly burned out, but it still hurts a little as Poe’s knuckles turn white under the strain.  Luke carefully controls his wince.  “Will it help?” Poe asks.

 

“I can’t promise you that.” Luke wishes he had a better answer, but he can’t promise Poe much.  Then again, maybe Poe needs the little Luke can give him.  “But I swear it won’t hurt.”

 

“Okay,” Poe agrees. 

 

Luke reacts quickly, not giving Poe a chance to tense up further or change his mind.  Luke feels as though he falls into the crack in Poe’s memory opened with his permission, and the pain is staggering.  Every touch Kylo Ren inflicts is carved across Poe’s psyche like a heated blade sliced him open, and the pain is seems to be magnified beyond that, radiating into Poe deeper somehow.  Luke follows that sensation, finding a familiar softness under the memory.  Poe’s Force-sensitivity resides there, and Luke finds Kylo Ren had dug claws in here, inflaming it so it amplified the pain he caused.  It’s a horrible trick, one Luke has never seen before.  He hates to think what it could be used to do on a Jedi, and not just someone sensitive like Poe. 

 

He leaves behind the memories and looks directly into Poe’s small ability with the Force, finding it is indeed still raw and amplifying pain, but now it seems to just be echoing phantom pain.  He tries to reach into it, to see if he can soothe it, but it lashes out, and Luke withdraws quickly, unwilling to risk going back on his word not to hurt Poe.

 

“I’m sorry.” Luke chokes the words out quietly, hating that he doesn’t really know how to fix this.  “Sometimes Force-sensitivity just reacts poorly to being abused.  He used your sensitivity to help make it more painful for you and easier for him to scratch out your secrets.  It will heal, with time, but there’s no other cure for it that I know of.”

 

“And the nightmares?” Poe demands, and Luke considers it.  He dreads how bad it must be for Poe to ask, and sure enough, Poe confirms his fears when he presses for details.

 

Poe radiates eagerness at the promise of help, following Luke with an actual bounce to his steps.  When Luke reaches the branch in the corridor that leads either down to his quarters or away and on to Poe’s quarters, he pauses, uncertain.  It would logistically make more sense to bring Poe to his quarters and keep an eye on him, but Luke has selfish motives for wanting to have Poe in his bed.  “It’ll be easier for me to keep an eye on you if we go to my quarters, but I can gather work and bring it to yours if you’d prefer,” Luke says finally, putting the choice in Poe’s hands instead.

 

“If you can make me sleep without nightmares, I’d manage it in my X-Wing, on a rocky high-grav moon, just about anywhere,” Poe answers as he takes a step toward the corridor to Luke’s quarters.  He flushes slightly, and Luke smiles softly, understanding the relief the prospect of a decent night’s sleep can bring. 

 

“My quarters, then,” he confirms, turning quickly and leading the way up the hall before he can talk himself out of the idea. 

 

He opens the door, letting Poe lead the way inside, the pilot’s curious gaze quickly raking in the details.  Luke starts the fire bowl on his dresser automatically, then checks to make sure the way he used the Force didn’t startle Poe too badly.  Instead he gets a wave of nostalgia off the other man, and he wonders if Poe remembers that Shara was the one to introduce Luke to fire bowls, giving him one of hers when Poe was younger.  He enjoys the soft, warm light they throw off.

 

The bed is covered in books, and Luke sighs internally at the mess he’s made of his quarters.  Very impressive, not at all like he’s a scholarly hermit.  He levitates the books away from the bed and onto the floor, then flips back the bedding, waving Poe toward it.

 

Poe brushes past him, and Luke uses the faint touch to start the healing trance.  He gets an odd emotional echo off Poe when he does it, but he dismisses it, not examining it any further. He waits while Poe struggles to wrestle his shoes off, but can’t resist helping Poe into bed, bringing the blankets up over the young man.  The trance is starting to take hold, Luke notices, seeing Poe’s eyes fixate idly on his face for a moment too long.  “So, how’s this work?” Poe asks when he manages to regain his focus.

 

“I can give you undisturbed rest, dreamless sleep,” Luke explains.  “Jedi don’t usually use the practice just for rest.  It’s usually helpful to ease someone through a physical trauma so they can heal and hold out until medical aide can be obtained.  I’ll send you under to sleep, help you get some rest needed for healing the Force trauma you’re dealing with. Nightmares by nature build up a sleep debt that is detrimental to healing.”

 

“Okay,” Poe yawns, the trance taking a strong hold now as Luke begins reinforcing it. “Tricked me,” Poe grumbles, and Luke laughs softly at the sleepy indignation.

 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Luke reassures him, and as though in response, Poe finally closes his eyes.  Luke reaches a hand up to Poe’s temple, combing his fingers through the soft hair there as he starts setting the trance to work on Poe. 

 

He only wants to set the parameters just wide enough to help Poe catch up on sleep, but that goal keeps pushing them alarmingly wide.  Luke frowns, reading the currents of the Force rushing back at him, then with a sigh, lets them cast wide.  Poe’s been short on sleep for much longer than he’s let on, and his body is desperate for help erasing the sleep debt.  He doesn’t even want to think about how it may or may not have affected Poe’s flying.

 

Luke eases his hand free of Poe’s hair, then presses a gentle kiss to the other man’s forehead.  “Sleep well,” he warns the other man, even though he can’t hear Luke.  “We’re going to have words when you wake up.”

 

He sends a message to Leia, asking her to stop by when she’s free.  Then he sends a second message when he realizes he may have taken Poe away from his duties, clarifying that sooner is probably better than later, and by the way, he’s taking Poe off duty for the indefinite future. 

 

He tries to feel surprised when Leia turns up at his door less than half a standard hour later.

 

“You don’t have the authority to take pilots off duty, even if you do have disgustingly adorable crushes on them,” Leia informs him, then stops dead when she spots Poe.  “Oh.  So this is serious.”

 

“Force trauma,” Luke confirms, sitting down on the couch slowly.  Leia goes over to Poe, conducting her own quick examination. 

 

“He feels like he hasn’t slept in…” she trails off, looking over at Luke.

 

“He hasn’t slept without nightmares for probably six months,” Luke confirms, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to soothe away the start of a headache forming behind his eyes.  “He’s been hiding it well.  When he was captured, Ben did something to his Force-sensitivity, turned it against him.  I’m helping him rest, but this may take some time.”

 

“I completely missed it,” Leia remarks, joining Luke on the couch.

 

“You’re not exactly in a great place yourself,” Luke says gently.  “You can let this one go. I only just put the pieces together myself.”

 

“And you’re not blaming yourself for not noticing sooner?” she asks, huffing softly when he glares at her.  “No, let me guess.  You were trying not to pay attention to him because you’re attracted to him, and now you’re kicking yourself for not paying more attention?”

 

He doesn’t have it in him to go ten rounds with his sister, especially when she’s right, so he sighs, letting his head fall back on the couch.  “Well, it’s certainly not how I pictured getting him into my bed,” he jokes.  He chances a glance over, pleased to find his sister smothering giggles in her hands.

 

* * *

 

Leia sends a medical droid to him, and the droid leaves careful instructions as well as a bottle of electrolyte replenishment solution.  Luke remembers having had to down the stuff before and a careful sniff reveals it’s probably still as vile as he recalls.

 

He sends Rey and Finn away when they turn up for lessons, after using Poe as a bit of an object lesson on asking for help when they need it, but he suspects they take away plans to smother Poe when he wakes up rather than the actual lesson.  And he works, keeping one eye on Poe at all times. 

 

The healing trance keeps Poe deeply under, his brain never spiking with anxiety or nightmares.  Luke reads anything he can get his hands on about Force trauma, and when he can’t easily find anything helpful, he starts digging into old Imperial records, hoping to find what Kylo Ren did and navigate backward into a way to help Poe.

 

He’s reading some particularly vicious Imperial records when Poe begins stirring, a little over two days after Luke put him under.  Luke mutters under his breath, bookmarking the page in his holobook and waits for the pilot to properly wake up so he can give Poe a stern lecture.

 

Poe blinks up at him sleepily, slow grin easing the corners of his mouth upward, and most of Luke’s anger and irritation flee.  “Good evening,” Luke says, trying to buy himself some time to collect his thoughts back up again.  Poe ducks back under the blankets with a sleepy noise, and Luke abandons all hope.  “You’ve been out for two full days,” Luke informs him instead.

 

Poe flails, trying to push the blanket away and sit up, but two days of rest without food take their toll and he’s quickly knocked back on his elbows.

 

“Easy,” Luke admonishes him.  “There’s a bottle of electrolyte balance and restorative on the side table.  Your blood sugar is going to be low.  I spoke with Leia when it became clear you’ve been in need of help for a lot longer than I originally estimated.  You’re off duty until I clear you.”

 

“I don’t think—“

 

“That’s clear,” Luke interrupts him, finally recovering his anger and annoyance.  “You let this go on for far too long, Poe.  Why didn’t you ask me for help when I showed up two months ago?”  What if you’d been too tired to fly right, had hurt yourself, what if I’d lost you before I had a chance to help, he thinks, but he doesn’t let those thoughts slip past his lips.

 

“I just thought it was trauma and it’d just take time,” Poe replies, sounding unconcerned, as he chokes down half the bottle of electrolytes. He makes a face, tongue lolling out in disgust.  “That’s not something you can fix, Luke.”

 

“Turns out I can do something,” Luke points out, sitting back.  He’s deflating, losing the anger again.

 

“Have you slept?” Poe asks, and Luke can’t stop the ugly laugh that escapes at the question.

 

“Asks the man who’s barely slept in six months,” Luke comments sarcastically.  Poe has just finished the last of the electrolytes, and grins at Luke, apparently amused by his acerbic comments.  “Don’t grin at me, I’m irritated with you,” Luke tosses out, trying to find his annoyed feelings again, but he’s lost them, and Poe just grins even more brightly in response.  “Stop it.” 

 

“You’re cute when you’re cranky,” Poe yawns, and Luke’s heart stutters.  He thinks he must have misheard Poe, who is now stretching in a way that bends his body suggestively.  “Should I get out of your hair so you can sleep?”

 

Luke can’t even begin to process half of the meltdown going on in his mind, so he shakes his head slowly.  “Luke?” Poe asks, sitting up and looking concerned.

 

“You are impossible,” Luke says, unable to come up with anything else appropriate to say.  He focuses on the information Poe needs, managing to reassemble his thoughts.  “I need sleep, Poe, and you’ve got about an hour before your body is going to want several hours more of natural rest.  Go use my fresher.  I’ll get us some food and then I’ll take the couch.”

 

“Or we can share,” Poe offers, but the pilot is smirking now, and the credit drops in Luke’s mind.  Poe has deduced Luke’s feelings and is teasing him. 

 

“Your amusement over my foolishness is annoying,” he says, proud of the steady annoyed tone he achieves. 

 

Poe blinks tiredly at him, looking adorably rumpled and confused.  “I must be tired,” he says.  “What foolishness?”

 

“Fresher, food, bed,” Luke lists off, rather than try to deal with Poe.  Poe seems all too eager to go along with it, heading off to the fresher. 

 

He takes a deep breath, digging into his dresser for some night clothes for Poe.  He leaves them outside the door to the fresher, then heads to the mess to gather some food for them both.

 

* * *

 

Poe vanishes early the next morning, much more alert and focused, giving Luke a grateful smile on his way out to see Leia.  Luke sighs and goes back to work finishing the lightsaber for Poe.  With a little luck, he thinks, it might help retrain Poe’s Force-sensitivity into its normal state.

 

He catches Finn and Rey reading Poe the riot act when he and Leia slip through the mess to grab some breakfast after her meeting with Poe, and he simply smiles at Poe when the pilot catches his eye and frantically tries to signal him over, probably hoping for backup.  “Not nice to leave your lover twisting,” Leia teases him when she sees Poe’s antics.

 

“He wouldn’t get the backup he’s looking for with them from me,” Luke replies, ignoring her word choice, and Leia laughs. 

 

“Good point,” she agrees, linking her arm through Luke’s.  “Come on, brother dearest, let’s see if you can’t help me sort out this mission I’m planning.”

 

* * *

 

He’s in the middle of sparring with Rey when a burst of laughter from the viewing gallery catches his attention.  Rey actually does a better job at ignoring it than Luke does, looking disappointed when he signals a stop.  “Poe,” Luke calls up, eyes narrowing at the conspiratorial body language Poe and Finn are projecting.  “Here to disrupt my lessons?”

 

“I can be quiet,” Poe calls back, finger tracing an X across his chest.  He’s made his eyes big as though that will project the appearance of sincerity.  Luke barely suppresses his laughter.

 

“All evidence to the contrary,” Luke replies dryly.  “My bag is by the wall.  Check the side pocket.”

 

He watches Poe pull the lightsaber out, but the faint feeling of puzzlement around Poe never changes, even when he holds it up.  Luke beckons him down, but he can tell Poe still hasn’t caught on.  Rey has though, excitement rolling off her as she grins at Luke before moving toward the viewing gallery.

 

“Good luck,” she tells Poe, ignoring him when he tries to offer her the lightsaber.  Luke can practically feel the idea click in Poe’s head as he looks down at his hand then up at Luke.

 

 “Hey, whoa, no,” Poe babbles.  “I’m no Jedi, I definitely don’t…”

 

“No, you’re not a Jedi, and you never will be,” Luke agrees, hiding a smile.  “But you do have a sensitivity that was used against you.  It might help if it could be used for something else, help it relearn how it’s supposed work.  You said it gave you good instincts.  Give me something better for your instincts than a fight and we’ll do that instead.”

 

“Fight, sure, but lightsabers?” Poe is looking at the blade in his hand as though it’s a snapping _fidijar_.  “They don’t exactly work well for normals like me.  Whose is this anyway?”

 

“Yours,” Luke replies.  He keeps his voice steady, even though the implications of constructing a weapon like this for another person are staggering.  Fortunately, there are only a few people alive who know anything about that. “Crafted for you.”

 

Poe appears to be thinking, and for one brief moment, Luke worries that Poe knows how hard it is to craft a blade specific to another person.  “That’s why you called me to your office,” Poe accuses him, and Luke feels a little smug at having pulled that off so well.  “You tricked me.”

 

“To be fair, your selection played a nasty trick on me too,” Luke replies dryly.  “Cracking that thing open to find near pure quartz.  It took far longer than I thought it would to fashion it.”

 

He gets a faint wave of curiosity from Poe before the other man presses the trigger, extending the blade.  Luke had refrained from checking the color, and the nearly white blade is staggering.  He knew it would be beautiful, just hadn’t realized how amazing it would look.  “Huh,” Poe starts, and Luke lunges, determined to push at Poe’s instinctive responses.  Poe swings the blade around, managing a clumsy block.  “Hey,” he objects, and Luke withdraws.

 

“Any further objections?” Luke asks, grinning a little when Poe scowls, but readies the blade.  Luke swings much more slowly this time, telegraphing the motion to encourage the block, and falling back on beginner work. 

 

Poe struggles to block at first, the internal struggle almost visible in his movement.  Luke waits it out, and finally, something clicks for Poe.  His grip shifts on the saber’s hilt, his arm position strengthens up.  Luke quickens his motions, and Poe struggles to match it, but the instinctive movement is starting to come through. 

 

Luke doesn’t mean to pull his swing so wide, but Poe follows it and loses his footing, scowling as he trips himself up and lands on his butt with a hard “oof.”

 

Luke immediately deactivates his lightsaber and offers the pilot a hand up.  Poe grabs it and tugs himself up, stepping in closer to Luke as he stands, flushing and grinning wickedly for a moment.  They’re back to teasing apparently, Luke observes, using their joined hands to push Poe away before letting go. 

 

“Finn, maybe you can help Commander Dameron with his footwork,” Luke says, hoping his scowl conveys how much he doesn’t appreciate the teasing.  Poe actually winks at him, apparently undeterred.

 

Rey and Luke go back to their training, Luke feeling grateful that the speed and force of the practice between them helps exorcise some of his irritation with Poe.  By the time Luke calls a stop for the day, he thinks he’s put his more troubling emotions aside.

 

He hears Poe send Finn and Rey away, and Rey looks confused while Finn radiates some sort of smug amusement that’s not just directed at Poe but also at Luke.  Poe apparently let Finn in on the joke. 

 

“Something else?” Luke asks, bending down to retrieve his bag so that he has time to school his face against the pang his realization has caused.  Poe joins him, offering the lightsaber to him.  “No, I was quite serious,” Luke replies, shouldering his bag.  “I made it for you.  You may not want to use it in a real fight, but I think it could be good for you, help quiet your mind some.”

 

“Thank you, then,” Poe says, clipping the blade on his belt.  “So, is this a better time to ask why you care?” 

 

“I don’t think there is a good time for this,” Luke groans, heading for the door.  He’s pretty sure there will never be a good time for Poe to officially reject him.  Poe neatly steps into his path and blocks his way.  “Poe, just chalk it up to my sentiment for your parents if that’s easiest,” Luke suggests, hoping that will appease Poe.

 

“What if I was hoping for something more?”  Poe actually looks bashful when he asks this, and if Luke were less annoyed, it might give him pause.

 

“Knock it off,” Luke scolds him.  Poe grins, apparently amused by Luke’s gruff reply.

 

“I was hoping,” he starts.  Luke closes his eyes briefly, not wanting to know what Poe plans to follow that up with.  Poe goes silent, and Luke looks up, confused.  Poe’s eyes are warm, soft, and he’s biting his lower lip.

 

Luke lifts his left hand, bringing his fingers up to trace over Poe’s jaw.  “Poe,” he mutters, suddenly uncertain of what’s happening here.

 

“Oh,” Poe says softly.  He turns his head, bringing his own hand up to hold Luke’s in place.  Gently, carefully, Poe kisses Luke’s palm.  Luke’s heart pounds so loudly he can hear it.  “You think I’m teasing.”

 

“Stop,” Luke says, but he’s not sure what he’s trying to halt.

 

“I’m not teasing,” Poe protests.  “You don’t think I could be attracted to you?”

 

“You’re 32, I’m 53,” Luke explains.  The age difference alone should halt Poe in his tracks.

 

“And?” Poe asks implacably.  “You’re handsome.  You’re a Jedi, so your natural life span is probably 50 or 60 years longer than mine.  20 years is nothing.”  Luke wants to pull away, but he knows if he backs down right now, Poe will just follow him.  So he goes for the low blow.

 

“You’re in love with Finn.”

 

Poe actually shrugs it off, eyes focused too sharply on Luke.  “Yes, I fell for Finn, but he fell for Rey.  Then there’s you.  I like you.  You make me laugh.  And I’m attracted to you.  And maybe I’m reading this wrong, but I think you’re attracted to me.”

 

“Oh, Poe,” Luke groans, head falling forward.  He starts laughing, helpless.  He can’t believe this is actually happening.

 

 


	3. Chapter Three

Poe steps back, letting his hand fall away from Luke’s, surprised when the laughter tapers off.  Luke looks up, shaking his head suddenly.  He reaches out, snagging Poe’s hand in his own again.  “Wait, just wait,” Luke says softly, shaking his head.  “You… you’re attracted to me?”

 

“You don’t need to rub it in,” Poe snaps, struggling to pull his hand away.  “I thought… look, I get it.  I’m a basket case and a mess, who’d want that?  I’m sorry, I read this wrong.”

 

“You really didn’t,” Luke says, and Poe feels himself go still.  He peeks up from under lowered lashes, scared to even look over at Luke.  “You’re not a basket case either.  You just need some help getting through something that would break most people, Poe.  But…”  Luke gives Poe a long, considering look.  “I’m the one helping you.  So, I have to ask.  This isn’t some gratitude thing, right?” Luke sounds a little skeptical.

 

“I’m grateful,” Poe agrees, hope clawing its way up his throat, making it hard to speak.  “But that’s got nothing to do with attraction.”

 

Luke moves forward suddenly, and still in a tense state from sparring, Poe starts backward ever so slightly.  “Just… hold still,” Luke says, his hand sliding around to the back of Poe’s neck, then he leans forward again. 

 

Oh.

 

Poe doesn’t know why it surprises him, but he’s utterly floored when Luke presses their lips together.  It takes him a moment to catch up, almost a moment too long if the way Luke starts to pull away tells him anything, but he manages to get his hands up and tangled in Luke’s shaggy hair, pulling him back in for a deeper kiss. 

 

It’s like getting rolled underwater by a rip current, something devouring him.  Luke nips at his lower lip, then soothes the quick pain away with the smooth slide of his tongue, and really, Poe manages to think, it’s not fair that the Jedi doesn’t kiss like a man almost a decade out of practice.  Luke’s beard is somehow both soft and rough against his skin, and doesn’t that just give Poe a dozen ideas of other places he wants Luke’s mouth.  Poe’s lips part all too easily to let Luke in, and his back hits the wall, the movement jolting them both.  He chuckles, but reclaims Luke’s lips before either of them can move away from the other, letting his legs slide apart as Luke presses closer, wedging his leg between Poe’s. 

 

Poe groans, half tempted to rut against Luke’s leg he’s so damn turned on right now.  He has no idea why common sense decides to kick in suddenly, but it does, and he tips his head away from the kiss in order to try and suggest moving to his quarters or Luke’s.  Before he finds words, the older man simply switches his attentions to Poe’s throat, almost immediately nailing Poe’s weakest point, a quick scrape of teeth to the skin just above his pulse melting Poe’s knees out from under him.  He’d have slumped to the floor if the wall hadn’t already been supporting him.

 

“Bed,” he manages to gasp, and Luke straightens, looking surprised.  “We shouldn’t do this here,” Poe exhales shakily, gesturing to the training room.  “Whatever we want this to be.  Which, you know, there should be some talking about?”

 

Luke nods, smiling faintly.  “Your quarters or mine?” he asks, and Poe flushes.

 

“Um, yours?” he suggests, thinking of the warm fire bowl light and how much he wants to get Luke naked and under him in that light.

 

“Okay,” Luke agrees, nodding to the door.  “After you.”

 

* * *

 

The walk over unfortunately gives Luke far too much time to think, for his doubts to start clouding his mind.  He waits until they’re in his quarters, but he can see Poe has caught on to the gathering clouds around his mood.  “Is this… what do you want here, Poe?” he asks, hating how naked the whine of uncertainty in his voice leaves him.

 

“I’m hoping we’re both on board with what I want,” Poe replies, tugging Luke over to the bed.  Luke expects something about a one night stand or a beneficial arrangement to follow, especially when Poe pushes him down to sit on the bed.  “I want to be with you,” Poe says, but then surprisingly, he kneels down between Luke’s legs, resting his hands on Luke’s thighs, where he just stops.  “For as long as you’ll have me.  I think I could be good for you, and I know you’d be good for me,” he continues, and his earnest expression makes Luke shiver.  “I want to make you laugh, a lot more than you do now.  I know, you could probably have a lot of beings all over the galaxy if you wanted to, but if we do this, I would want to be exclusive,” Poe adds, something darkening his eyes possessively, and Luke hates to admit the way that makes him go hot, skin flushing.  He can’t imagine what would possess Poe to want only him, or understand Poe's strange belief that Luke could find anyone better, but he’s absolutely on board.  “You too?”

 

“I’m not one for sharing.  I want you to myself,” he agrees, voice coming out low and husky.  That apparently does it for Poe too, because the pilot leans up, pressing a long, needy kiss to Luke’s lips.  “Yes, to all that,” Luke agrees, when they break apart.  “What about for right now?”

 

“Now?” Poe asks, looking a little dazed.

 

“Do you have a plan for right now?” Luke asked.  He reaches out to play with the laces at the throat of Poe’s shirt, tugging a little without slipping the knot undone.  “A plan for how much clothing we can take off each other?  There should be more kissing, of course.  But after that?  If there’s anything after that,” he amends, not wanting to push Poe.  He knows Poe is already hard, and he’s well on his way himself from just a few kisses, but he won’t assume. 

 

“Oh, I think all the clothes can go, and I’m interested in hearing more about the ‘after that’ menu,” Poe teases him.

 

“Hands?” Luke asks, quirking an eyebrow at Poe as he tugs hard enough to undo the lacing on Poe’s shirt and starts flicking the string through eyelets.  The shirt is loose enough to slip off over Poe’s head, but he likes how this feels, slowly undoing the ties to reveal more and more of Poe’s skin.  “Frottage?  Mouths… I can think of a number of places I’d like to get mine on your body.  And yours on mine.  Fucking?  I’m… open to arrangements either way on that,” he says.  It’s been far too long since he propositioned anyone, but Poe doesn’t seem to mind his direct words.

 

“Force, anything, any of it,” Poe agrees, eyes a little glazed at the suggestions.  “Uh, maybe let’s not bring the Force into it,” he amends, laughing faintly.  “Not till I’m doing better,” he adds, and Luke nods, stroking a hand gently through Poe’s hair.  “But… the fire bowl,” Poe requests, and Luke pauses not quite following the comment.  “I’d like to have that be our light,” he explains.

 

He waves a hand to activate it without thinking, but fortunately Poe doesn’t flinch away.  He reaches over to the bedside control to fade the overhead light next, Poe’s skin going so very dark and golden in the firelight.  “You’re beautiful,” he observes, heart fluttering oddly as he strokes his fingertips down Poe’s jaw.  “Too beautiful for an old man like me.”

 

“Old,” Poe snorts, looking amused.  “You’re in your fifties, Luke, and I know from what I felt in the training room, you’re certainly not dead.”

 

His tactless comment has Luke smiling, then bringing their lips back together softly.  Poe’s hands wiggle under his shirt at his waist, searching out the hidden fastenings, and Poe manages to unknot half a dozen before they break apart, panting.  “Kriff, how many ties are on your clothing anyway?” Poe demands, looking as though the complicated laces have personally offended him.

 

“Just two more,” Luke shows him, and he makes easy work of the loops holding the knots in place.  The shirt slides open, and Poe lights up, looking surprisingly delighted.  His deft hands part the fabric, slowly sliding it down over Luke’s shoulders, hands soft and almost reverent in their touch. 

 

“Gorgeous,” Poe mutters, hands sliding back up Luke’s arms.  Luke can’t imagine what Poe is seeing.  His body’s gone soft with age, and his ribs jut out strangely from years of living rough.  The hair on his chest has gone almost completely silver, the way it has in his beard, but Poe trails fingertips through it nonetheless, looking all too pleased to touch.

 

He reaches up, desperate to do something and gets his fingers tangled in Poe’s shirt.  Poe laughs softly at his eagerness and helps, slipping the material up over his head and then shimmying out of his undershirt.  Poe’s body is cut on long, lithe lines that make Luke want to trace every last one of them with his tongue.  “Force,” he mutters, hand hesitating just short of touching.

 

Poe frowns, bringing his hand up to Luke’s and guiding it to his chest, holding Luke’s hand flat against his skin.  “Listen to me,” Poe says, voice soft but resolute.  “I want you to touch me.  I want you.”

 

“I feel I’m taking advantage,” Luke tries to explain, but Poe grins wickedly at that.

 

“Promise that boat’s sailed a long time ago,” Poe remarks, and his humor oddly helps Luke relax a little.

 

“People used to want to be with me because I was Luke Skywalker,” Luke explains, and this time he sees understanding light up Poe’s eyes.  “I hated it, and I’m glad that’s faded.  But it is gone, and I’m at a loss for why you’d be with me.”

 

“Because you’re Luke,” Poe says simply.  “You make me laugh, you see through my defenses, and you take care of me.  Because you may not be able to see it, but there is still something about you that makes my breath catch when you smile.  Because your eyes are gorgeous.  And no matter what anyone says, I like the beard too.”

 

Luke chuckles and pulls Poe in for a kiss, hands sliding up Poe’s back.  It isn’t a smooth slide of skin like Luke expects.  Under his left hand, the skin ripples oddly.  He trails his fingertips back down again, and Poe pulls back a little, grimacing.  “I crash landed a few years back,” he explains, rotating his waist so Luke can see. 

 

The regrown skin isn’t perfect, all the hallmarks of the Resistance being too short on bacta and skin generators present there.  The scarring stops mercifully short of his spine, but covers a large swathe of shoulder, rib cage, and down Poe’s lower back, vanishing beneath his trousers.  Luke makes a questioning noise, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Poe stands so he can slip off his trousers and undergarments, revealing the scars that wrap down over his hip and trail down the side of his right leg to just above his knee.

 

“You have some cybernetics of your own,” Luke guesses, remembering how Poe reacted to his hand.

 

“Hip, femur, one artificial rib,” Poe recites, startling a little when Luke brings his hand up to Poe’s hip and eases it over Poe’s skin without hesitation.

 

“You are perfect,” Luke remarks, and he can see he’s astonished Poe.  “You survived,” he adds.  Now that Poe’s turned back to look at him, he’s got one hell of a great view now too.  Poe’s not quite gone soft, cock still half erect and just begging for Luke to reach out and encourage it, so he does, enjoying the way his touch makes Poe’s eyes flutter shut and wrenches a groan from the younger man.

 

“So we’re doing that,” Poe blurts out, then suddenly he’s straddling Luke’s lap, kissing Luke frantically.  Luke opens to it easily, using Poe’s distraction to help swing the younger man around and down to the mattress, chasing the kiss as they move, bringing his own body on top of Poe’s.

 

* * *

 

Poe feels half dizzy as his back hits the mattress, and Luke doesn’t let up, still kissing him even as he slides down on top of Poe, bringing their bodies prone.  The way Luke touches him lights his body up like nothing he’s ever felt.  He’s not sure if it’s how Luke didn’t pull away from his scars or just the way Luke seems to find his sensitive spots unerringly, but he’s harder than he’s ever been and feels suddenly and completely out of control.

 

“Please,” he begs, crying out softly when Luke strokes his cock again.  “Oh yes, please, Luke.”

 

“Shall I get you off?” Luke asks, looking curious, like Poe’s one of those damn old books he reads so carefully, like he’s determined to absorb every detail of Poe’s body.  “Take the edge off, then see where we go for a second round without being so frantic?”

 

Poe hears himself wail when Luke twists his wrist and brings his mouth down to bite at Poe’s throat, and he flushes red at the sound.  “Shh, you’re fine,” Luke reassures him, looking so very satisfied.  “I take it that’s a yes, you can come again if I get you off right now?”

 

“Yes,” Poe agrees, arching into Luke’s hand, which is moving way too slowly.  Luke’s mechanical hand scratches its metal fingertips lightly over Poe’s chest, and he shouts, nearly coming from the sensation of the metal on his body alone.  He sees Luke store the reaction away with an uplifted eyebrow.  The metal fingertips keep rubbing patterns that graze over his nipples, and Poe struggles to keep from coming, not wanting Luke to stop.  He’s got his eyes squeezed shut when suddenly Luke’s tongue traces up the path his metal fingers just mapped out, and Poe cries out as he comes.

 

It takes a long time for his breathing to even out enough that Poe can open his eyes, smiling lazily when he meets Luke’s gaze.  “So that’s a thing for me, obviously,” he manages wryly, and Luke laughs, rolling onto his back.  That’s when Poe notices he didn’t even manage to get Luke’s pants off, and he needs to rectify that mistake now.  His limbs are still wobbly and clumsy as he leans up onto his side, but he gets his fingers under Luke’s waistband and finds the ties.  “Off, want to see you too.”

 

Luke helps, much more coordinated since Poe can see he’s still hard under his clothes, making quick work of loosening the tie.  Poe swoops in, tugging till Luke’s legs are free and he’s laid bare across the mattress.  Poe knows he’s no slouch, but Luke’s cock has a weight and girth to it that makes his mouth water.  Rather than even try to deal with that, he simply slides down so he can taste it, just teasing his tongue over the head, making Luke curse colorfully.  “Now I know where your kriffing droid gets it from,” Poe complains, before sliding a little more of Luke into his mouth, sucking at the head of his cock.

 

“Other way around,” Luke insists, and it sounds like he’s gritting his teeth. 

 

It’s been a while since Poe sucked a cock, but he takes his time remembering, finding he still knows how to relax his throat, slowly taking Luke deeper and deeper.  He keeps working at Luke’s cock until his nose presses into the crinkly hair at the base, head bumping deep at the back of his throat.

 

Luke gasps and then his fingers are in Poe’s hair and tugging, so Poe backs off with a groan, trying not to feel quite so turned on by Luke’s grip.  “I can come in your mouth or I can fuck you, but I can’t do both,” Luke warns Poe, who considers it for a moment. 

 

“Okay, fine, but next time I want to properly suck you off,” Poe informs Luke, enjoying the way Luke blushes.  He doesn’t expect the kiss – his last lover was squeamish about where his mouth was before the kiss – and it redoubles his affection for Luke.  Luke breaks the kiss and pulls away, and before Poe can vocalize much of a protest, he realizes Luke’s digging in his bedside drawer.  He comes back with a tube of lubricant, unopened, and Poe lifts an eyebrow.  “Expecting company?” he asks, a little surprised to find Luke actually prepared for this.

 

Luke goes a dull shade of red, and Poe has to strain to pick apart the words.  “My sister has had some fun at my expense over my attraction to you,” Luke informs him, and Poe laughs helplessly.

 

“Oh god, I can’t decide if I’m horrified or turned on,” Poe chokes out between laughs.  One of Luke’s fingers, covered in slick, rubs gently over his entrance, and Poe swallows a laugh hard.  “Oh, I’m sending her flowers,” he promises.  Luke teases just the very tip of his finger inside, and Poe squirms, whimpering a little.  “Wine, chocolates, anything,” he babbles, making Luke laugh.

 

“Shut up, Poe.”  Fortunately he says it fondly and sinks his finger in to the second knuckle, apparently not annoyed enough to stop.  Poe breathes out slowly, managing to stay still only through sheer bloody will. 

 

“I’m not fragile,” he warns Luke, who slides his finger almost all the way out then back in.  “Kriff!”

 

“And I like the idea of taking it slow, getting you good and worked up for it,” Luke replies, repeating the same slow slide.  Poe's been half hard since Luke tugged him around by his hair, and taking his time does seem to be jangling Poe's nerves in all the right ways.  “You’re tight.”

 

“Been a while,” Poe admits, inhaling sharply through his nose when Luke adds a second finger.  It stretches him more than he expects it to, and he’s suddenly grateful Luke has the control to take this slowly.  Luke keeps his fingers pressed together and fucks them slowly in and out of Poe for a moment, and Poe can feel when his body unclenches and opens to the touch.  Luke must too, because the fingers start slowly scissoring, widening the stretch and teasing him open properly now. 

 

When Luke pushes in a third finger, Poe can’t bite down on begging any longer.  “Please, need it, need you in me now,” he whines at Luke, who keeps working the three fingers but brings his other hand up and splays it wide across Poe’s chest, holding him in place.  Poe groans, head flopping back on the bed, resigned.  He thinks Luke’s being way too cautious, fanning his fingers and stretching Poe until he can also tuck his pinky in, but he just moans at the sensation helplessly.

 

The fingers all withdraw, and Poe tilts his head back up so he can watch Luke slick up his cock.  “Ready?” Luke asks, leaning down to kiss Poe as he nods.  Luke pushes in slowly, pausing after just working the head in, and Poe’s about to complain when he sees Luke’s face, slowly breathing as though he’s clinging to control by a thread.

 

* * *

 

Luke groans, finally working his hips again, sliding his cock a little further into Poe.  Everything feels so tight and hot and Luke has to keep pausing, determined to make this last more than a few seconds.  Finally he bottoms out, shaking slightly as he leans down and brushes a ghost of a kiss over Poe’s lips.  “Not going to last long,” he admits and gets an absolutely filthy grin in reply.

 

“Then make it hard and fast,” Poe suggests, cock leaking all over his stomach, surprisingly close for a man who has already come once. 

 

Luke rocks his hips experimentally, a few shallow, easy rolls till he finds and angle that makes Poe yell as his eyes roll back into his head.  Then he repeats it, harder, enjoying the strangled screams he’s coaxing from Poe.  He shouldn’t be surprised the pilot is loud in bed, but he loves it.  Now that he’s found the right angle, he grasps hold of Poe’s hips to keep him from squirming too much and then thrusts hard into Poe, setting a hard rhythm. 

 

Poe reaches down, wrapping a fist around his cock.  “Go on, come for me,” Luke orders Poe, who almost immediately complies with a relieved cry.  Luke pulls out, pumping his own dick once, twice, then spilling all over Poe’s chest and stomach. 

 

He lets himself go boneless next to Poe for a moment, catching his breath and appreciating the utter mess he’s made of Poe.  Poe lazily slides a finger through the seed sticking to his stomach, then delicately laps it off his fingertip in a way that makes Luke groan.  “You’re a menace,” he informs Poe, slowly rolling to the edge of the bed and up onto his feet.  His body protests the movement so soon after the exertion, but no way is he using the Force to summon a towel when he’s got Poe so boneless and happy in his bed.

 

He wipes Poe off gently, taking the time to trace the visible lines of Poe’s muscles in a way he knows he’ll eventually get around to doing with his mouth.  Poe’s dark eyes gaze up at him while he cleans them both up, and Luke likes how fond and content the younger man looks.  He could get addicted to pulling that reaction out of him as often as possible.

 

“I’ll have you know, I usually insist on dinner and drinks or flowers or something before I go to bed with a man,” Poe informs him sleepily, tugging Luke back down beside him.  “I’m not easy.”  Luke wrestles a sheet free from their bodies and draws it up over them, settling in on his side so he can watch Poe.

 

“I’m glad you made an exception for me,” Luke replies, reaching up so he can trail his fingers through Poe’s hair.

 

“Figured you got me into bed a few days ago, and you fed me then too,” Poe yawns. “It was almost like a date.  Better than some of the ones I’ve been on.”

 

“I did make you a lightsaber,” Luke offers.  “We could count that in lieu of flowers.”  Poe nods, little frown wrinkles marring his forehead.

 

“You know, I’d always heard that was supposed to be really hard, making one designed to work for someone else,” Poe almost makes it a question, but doesn’t quite go through with it.  “Guess I’m lucky you’re such an über powerful Jedi.”

 

Luke huffs softly, letting his thumb sweep down to brush over Poe’s cheekbone.  “I don’t think I could have done it for anyone else,” he admits.  Poe’s eyebrows lift up at that, but so do the corners of his mouth.

 

“Really?”

 

“Really,” Luke confirms, accepting the gentle kiss Poe gives him.  “I do want to take you out on proper dates too, Poe.  I like you, like being with you.”

 

“Mmm, good,” Poe murmurs, tucking his head into Luke’s shoulder sleepily. "Me too."

 

Luke watches Poe sleep, never stirring from nightmares, and for the first time in years, starts making plans for what he’s going to do next.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My head cannon is that Poe absolutely goes through with his threat to send Leia flowers with a terrible thank you note, and makes someone (probably R2) deliver them while Luke is there. Luke despairs of his life choices (as he's likely to do often with Poe for a lover), and Leia never lets him live the whole thing down.

**Author's Note:**

> Diasterism is light transmitted through stone. It fits well with the crystal in Poe's saber, but also, I like that every time I read it, I misread it as "Disaster-ism", which, let's be real, fits this pairing to a T too. 
> 
> Also, because no matter how much my beautiful beta may insist, "vintage coachella puke" is the right title, even I still don't know what that's supposed to mean. I suspect she may be trying to imply I'm on something to have written this...


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